


Border of Taboo

by Lilly_White



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, FFVII, Final Fantasy 7
Genre: BDSM, Dominatrix, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, Honey Bee Inn, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, MMF threesomes, Magic, Materia, Midgar, Midgar politics, Multi, Polyamory, Prostitution, Revolution, Sex Work, Sexpionage, Slums, Strippers, Wutai War, brothel, sex industry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 318,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_White/pseuds/Lilly_White
Summary: Aeris becomes a sex worker at the Honey Bee Inn. At first, she just wants to earn enough to move up onto the plate. But the high ranking of her clients attracts the eye of Avalanche, and she's hired for a dangerous mission: to seduce Sephiroth, and extract confidential information from him that could bring ShinRa down for good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a cherished unfinished fanfiction of mine! I'll try to post a chapter every Sunday.
> 
> Warning: there are occasional perspective/tense shifts.

• • •

It’s definitely a bit funny in the beginning. Everything you do suddenly has a taint. You’re stuffing your laundry into the washing machines in the Sector 5 laundromat and you think, look at that, a prostitute doing her laundry! Or you’re going out to get milk and you think, wow, a prostitute out and about, doing every day things! You’re so unused to the concept of these women leading normal lives, or at least lives comparable to your own, that you feel like everything you do is suddenly special. That contrast is probably why civilians are so interested in us. Ah, the irony of being so utterly abnormal and yet still needing to use normal facilities like everyone else. The secret? We’re actually utterly normal people. Big shocker, I know.

It took me at least a few weeks after I started to _feel_ normal, though. To assimilate the fact that yes, I could go around selling flowers with my nipples still aching from last night’s customers insisting on mutilating them because ‘I’m all about _your_ pleasure, darling’, and it being OK to conciliate both things. To go home and hug Elmyra without feeling like I was monstrous. Something about public stereotypes warping the otherwise banal experiences made it particularly hard to endure the job, in the beginning. I felt like I couldn’t possibly touch anyone, especially not children, with hands that had touched old spotty skin. I felt like I couldn’t talk to my father’s ghost without him despising me for what I was doing. But the look on Elmyra’s face when I had a brand new mattress imported for her from the Upperworld in exchange for a night’s worth of cash – the consistent smiling when I’d take her out for dinner somewhere fancy (by slum standards, anyway) – the pride in her eyes when less fortunate slum folk would stop at our door with trinkets to give me, in exchange for the money I gave them… it made me realize that the job wasn’t degrading at all. It was our living conditions that were degrading, down here. And if the work allowed me to make her more comfortable while I saved up for bigger goals, if pleasing a few lonely men allowed me to feed the children and blanket-wrapped beggars who hung around my church – then I had no business feeling monstrous about it at all.  

• • •

"What?! You still live with your mother?!" Zack leaned his elbows on the table, giving the new girl an incredulous look. He'd known her all his life, having grown up in the same sector as her, albeit on the Plate rather than under it. Now that she was approaching her twenties he couldn't believe she hadn't moved on to rent something of her own by now. Glass beads studded her ears, light spirals of chestnut hair tickled her collarbones; her chin was lowered, casting a shadow over her décolleté. He had to remind himself that it was bad for business to feast his eyes on a colleague; and that it was equally bad for old friendships, if not worse.

Aeris smiled at him. There was no shyness, no restraint when she spoke to him – there had been at first, as this was her first time inside the Honeybee Inn, and there were customers and girls milling all around the bar area. The girls were always intimidating to be around at first, as they had to act like what they were selling – expensive, out-of-your-league fantasies. So for the first few minutes Aeris had been just as tense and nervous as the new customers, even though she was waiting for an interview rather than to see the menu of men and women. Zack had had to work to make her feel as comfortable as possible – he prided himself a lot on being the only one she allowed herself to be so bold with.

‘Hey, I’m poor, remember?’ she said bluntly. ‘We don’t all have the privilege of growing up with people who kick us out of the house and into a nice little pre-arranged nest. I’ve been thinking about coming to this place for a long time.’

‘Ouch,’ Zack said with a grin. ‘Point taken, point taken. You always did seem far too curious about what I was up to this past year, asking me all those questions all the time.’

‘Oh, I was thinking about it long before you came to work here,’ she said. ‘Remember that girl who managed to get out of the slums thanks to her clients? Gale, I think?’

‘Oh Gaia, yeah, I remember her. That was ages ago, though. You were what, twelve?’ He mimicked the deep, tobacco-choked voice of the older woman; ‘ _Hey girls, it’s Gale!’_

‘Remember what I told you about sex ed with Gale?’ Aeris said with a giggle, and Zack laughed. He could almost see teenage Aeris again, passing on the fantastical tales of improbable human anatomy that she’d hear Gale talk about, dazzling the gaggle of Sector 5 slum girls Aeris used to go around with.

Aeris coughed a bit, trying to get that throat-scorching, rattly-chainsaw of a voice the woman used to have: ‘ _If you ain’t got means of import for hormonal contraceptives, girls, you gotta always have condoms on you, you ‘ear me?’_

Zack joined in: ‘ _Now there ain’t always money in daddy’s pocket as ‘e’s always off chucking it down the bottle or into that Wall Market honeypot, so you’ve got to make do with what’s available for ya.’_

_‘Best bet is stringing up some o’ these wild cats and gettin’ ‘old of their bladders, you can pop ‘em over the most pustulent winkle in this city and never ‘ave to rub skins with anyone.’_

The pair were eventually laughing too hard to continue. Zack had to shush his old friend as he could feel the working women around them shooting them glances as they sidled past.  

Zack cleared his throat, going back to the earlier conversation. ‘So, wait a minute. You said you’ve been seriously thinking about joining the Bee since you were _twelve?’_

‘Not _seriously…_ I was just curious, I guess. I remember thinking Gale must have a good life since she always looked so nice, with her big hair and her make-up and gold rings on every finger...’

‘Yeah, if you could turn a blind eye to her stimulant-crunching teeth.’

Aeris leaned forwards. ‘Does everyone do that around here? I feel like I need more credentials than just being poor. I mean, I’m not exactly miserable… people make it sound like girls only ever come to work here when they’re at the very end of their tether, and I’m not really there yet. The going’s just so _slow_ with the flowers and Elmyra’s state allowance.’

Zack shook his head. ‘You want my advice? Don’t overthink it. The way I see it, it’s a job that offers enough money for you to not waste your best years away in a crummy Wall Market shop trying to make ends meet. And, most of the girls in here know better than to crunch or snort away their money, trust me.’ Zack reached and placed his hands on her small, cold ones. ‘I’m not exactly down here for the money really, am I? So you don’t have to worry that there’s some profile you have to fit to get the job. Everyone has their own reason for doing this.’

Aeris was smirking at him. ‘No, you’re not in it for the money, are you? What _are_ you doing down here, Zack?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Zack said with a grin. He was no good at talking about his own sex life with Aeris – it was fun enough to make jokes about other people, but he considered her to be like his own sister, so it was a bit awkward to suddenly be on the spot like this. If she was going to join this environment then surely they’d have to become used to the idea of talking about their private lives, but Zack still wasn’t quite ready for it.

‘Is it because you only accept pretty young women who are willing to give something back for your efforts?’ Aeris said playfully.

Zack snorted. She was referring to the fact that a lot of his previous partners had been a bunch of pretty starfish when it came to bed manners – he had made the mistake of sharing his frustrations once and she’d teased him about it ever since.

‘Far from it,’ he assured her. ‘I get a lot of pretty young men, too.’

‘Come on, be serious.’

He sighed. She’d been curious about why he’d started selling sex from the day he’d joined the Bee last year, but he’d managed to steer her away from the whys and wherefores with all the wacky stories he had to tell about the place. He’d known she wouldn’t really let it rest though, and if he continued to steer her away, the question would only pop up again and again. He had to come clean sooner or later, however icky it made him feel to splay out his emotions in front of her.

He thought about how to word it for a moment, before starting: ‘Look, I mean, there’s never any time for real relationships with the Second Class schedule, right? Look at Elaine. At Cindy. At Max. They all crashed and burned because I never had time for them and it created trust issues and bla bla bla people don’t trust Soldiers to be loyal. And let’s just say I’ve been blown off one too many times to bother with casual sex, as well.’ He rubbed the back of his head just so he wouldn’t have to look at Aeris as he spoke. ‘At least when you’re getting paid, you’re getting rid of the urge and you’re not worrying about feelings, you know?’

Aeris’ smile had turned from mocking to admiring. ‘Actually, that makes a lot of sense.’ Then it turned back again. ‘You’ve got to have some libido if you’re willing to risk getting fired from Soldier to get rid of it.’

‘What! They wouldn’t fire me. The General doesn't give a damn what I do with my nights. Hell, he'd probably come on over here and get himself a room if he knew how much he'd be earning, and with what kind of company he'd be doing business."

‘Imagine the tabloids,’ Aeris giggled. ‘General Sephiroth, world class prostitute.’

‘Sex worker,’ Zack corrected her. ‘If you want to get on with the girls in here, best not to use that word too much.’

‘Oh,’ Aeris said, eyes wide. ‘Sorry. I never knew.’

‘It’s fine, they just don’t like civilians using those slurs,’ he said. ‘Once you’re no longer a civilian in their eyes though, you can use slurs as much as you like. They all use whore as an affectionate term in here.’

Aeris laughed at that. ‘It’ll take some getting used to, I suppose. Sex worker actually sounds a bit better, I think.’ She tested it: ‘Hey, mum, I’m a sex worker!’ and Zack laughed.

‘Have you told Elmyra at all?’

‘Gaia, no. She just thinks my flower business is booming. I said I was doing floral art for some fancy customers and she’s all impressed by it,’ Aeris said a little dreamily. It was a fantasy of hers that would sadly never come true if she stayed down here. ‘She doesn’t know anything about my private life. Actually she’s still asking me all the time about that boy I kissed back when I was fifteen. Jaime, remember? She practically wants us to marry.’

Zack smirked. He remembered the one. There had only ever been one, as Aeris hadn’t been very keen on relationships and sex up till now. That prompted another question, but he wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up. He stalled for a bit, teasing her:

‘Does he still leave flowers at your door?’

‘Don’t be mean,’ Aeris said. Then she pouted. ‘Sometimes.’

He smiled at that. Then he drew in a breath, stared her dead in the eye. ‘OK, I have a question. But you have to promise you won’t slap me.’

‘Why?’ She looked suspicious.

He let it out in one breath: ‘You’re not still a virgin, are you?’

Her cheeks went bright red. ‘I thought – I thought that would be an asset rather than a problem? Right? Maybe some people want to pay more for virgins.’

Zack felt his heart throb. He knew it was old-fashioned to insist that you should give your virginity to someone special, but he agreed with that idea one hundred percent so screw it, he was old-fashioned. He couldn’t help it. And as much as he understood what Aeris’ motivations were, he found himself hurting at the idea of someone as innocent and sweet as her entering the sex industry with everything for sale. She seemed to understand on an all too empirical level just how much value the female body could have, and it broke his heart to think that she’d rather capitalize on it all, than even try to wring any magic or enjoyment out of it.

‘Is it a problem? Is the Boss not going to hire me?’ Aeris said, all boldness and teasing attitude gone. Her hands were gripping his, pink nails biting his skin.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Zack said automatically, just to reassure her. She had those big vulnerable mossy eyes on him and he had no idea what to say. He sighed again. ‘I don’t know how he’ll take it. None of the girls in here were virgins when they started out. At least not the ones I’ve talked to. But you need to tell him, OK? Don’t lie about it. If he won’t accept you just because of your lack of experience then we can find a way around that.’

The accidental implication hung heavy between them, so Zack cracked a smile just to ease the tension. ‘Admit it. You’ve always wanted to get in my pants.’

‘Yeah, like I’ll be impressed by what I find,’ Aeris smirked.

Before Zack could say anything more about how honesty was key when it came to organizing a position in this place, the office door swung open. Both of them looked up at the boss, Aeris in apprehension, Zack in reluctance; the man nodded his head meaningfully at both of them, eyes glancing from one young person to the other. Then he retreated into his office, holding open the door for them. Squeezing his old friend's hand, Zack got up and escorted her into the office.

Aeris couldn’t help staring at the man as she passed him. He seemed to be made of pink granite, tall and square in his black suit. The black shirt collar that he wore seemed to dig into his slight second chin; a lapis-blue tie gave a finishing touch to his half-pimp, half-banker outfit. His well-groomed moustache sat on his upper lip, and his stern black eyes glittered as he looked down at her.

In conclusion, Aeris was surrendering the control of her night life to the scariest-looking man she'd even seen down here in the slums, and she was trying desperately to repress that little nagging thought that wanted to drag her out of this sordid place and back home to the safety of her mother. Back to her mummy! Hah. What an inappropriate desire it was to have in such a place, she thought, kicking herself; staring up at her new boss, she smiled hesitantly, and both she and Zack sat down in the two chairs facing the desk.

He closed the door behind them, stepping around the desk with his polished shoes creaking in the silence; sitting down with a groan of comfort and an even louder creak of leather, he set his plate-sized hands out flat on the desk.

Seconds went by. Aeris fidgeted madly, trying to repress the urge to leap around laughing manically.

The Boss stared fixedly at her from under his bushy eyebrows while talking to Zack about the bookings he had for the night. She'd never before felt such invasive scrutiny, and the fabric of her dress suddenly seemed to make her itch absolutely everywhere – her tights constricted her waist till she was sure she couldn't breathe – she felt filthy, she felt weird and absolutely stupid for even thinking of enrolling in this. He was probably going to kick her out anyway, telling her they didn't accept teenage girls with delusions of beauty. Arrogant, he'd call her – he'd say did she really think that with those unimpressive knockers she'd get any success?

Well, she'd tell him that she didn't have any other bodies to sell in order to stay alive in these godforsaken slums, and just because he was damn rich thanks to the girls whom he wrung dry to run his business, that didn't mean he had the right to tell her she had absolutely no chance.

And then he'd slam those huge fists on the desk and make the wood shatter and explode, making her cower and hide her face while he yelled that she should go back home to mummy just like she wanted, and to never show her immature face here again.

And then she'd yell right back at him…

‘Aeris?’

She snapped out of it instantly, staring at Zack and then back at Boss, jolted back to reality. They hadn't spoken; she didn't have a reason to hate his guts just yet.

'Now, now, my dear, don't be nervous! Just by looking at you I can tell that we'll be doing great business together,' he told her, his rumbling voice clothed in a velvet sheath of persuasion. 'Zack told me you were looking for involvement at the Honeybee, and that you’re new to this whole business. You see, I like the look of you, and Zack is one of my best workers, so if you work well, I'll be extra generous to you.'

Aeris swallowed, not knowing if she was interpreting that right.

'About the money…' she permitted herself to ask, and he laughed kindly.

'Of course. You probably don't know much about how this kind of job works. The money you earn goes to my purse, and I give you a certain percentage of it according to your consistency as a worker. If you're a slacker I'll be less generous. Of course, even the worst slacker still gets a fair share. I never go under 50 percent, just so you know.'

Aeris didn't know if she had the courage to dare the question… Lacing her fingers together, she tried the best she could to sound confident.

'And, uh, if I may… what's the average price for one night?'

The boss stared at her for a minute before laughing again, shaking his head.

'You girls always amuse me with your questions. How much for the whole night? My dear, if you only had one client per night, he’d have to be very rich, and everybody knows you can’t run a business down here if you only cater to the upper crust. No, I have special system here. It ensnares clients, ensuring your success and mine. You see, all the girls start with a basic price- '

'How much?' Aeris blurted before she could stop herself; she had to know if this was going to be worth it or not. It wasn't to flatter herself that she wanted a decent price; it was to ensure her dignity as a woman, not to mention the actual point of her enrolling into the business.

The boss seemed to understand; he didn't laugh this time.

'A whole night? I don’t know. Maybe one thousand, two thousand Gil?'

Aeris' mouth dropped open. She couldn't help it. Two thousand?! Crisis, she'd been thinking maybe 30-ish! And how on the Planet did this man manage his business in a place like this, with such high sums? It could only mean that the clients were all plate-dwelling noblemen… her heart was racing. What if she didn't meet the standards? What if she was too simple, too -

The boss suddenly laughed.

'Just kidding. How would I know? We only do shifts by the hour down here. If you can find me slummers who’d fork out two thousand for a Bee girl in one of these rickety rooms, I’ll eat my tie!'

Aeris stared, her heart plummeting. She stared at the desk in desperation, disappointment gnawing away at the lovely soaring feeling she'd just experienced.

Alright, now she had a reason to hate him.

'Hey, honey, this isn't the place if you want to win easy money. Anyhow, let me explain,' he said, not even showing an ounce of discomfort while Aeris quite visibly withdrew, shoulders hunched, hands curling in her lap. 'Ah, none of that! Have a little humour.'

'Only men with plenty of money in their pockets joke around like that," Zack said in her defense. ‘Boss, come on. 1000 Gil is probably more than any slum-dweller might make in a whole year.'

'I know that,' the boss said in a kinder voice. 'But what I'm trying to say is, girls come in here thinking they’ll lay back and earn thousands in one night without even knowing the basic protocol of the job. There’s a lot of social climbing before you get to those levels, a lot more work than just spreading your thighs. And I've seen a lot of my girls, and one or two of my men, too, go past the 5000 gil boundary _per hour_ , so just wait a minute and let me tell you how this works.'

Hearing this, Aeris gazed at him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue.

'You know just like I do that even the rather well-off slum dwellers lead miserable lives. They earn their bread, they have families, but slum life is all you could ever want to escape from. I've seen a lot of slum dwellers working all day just to win enough money to forget their depression at my place. We have services catering to them that are as low as the ladies are willing to go. For instance, one of my girls offers half hours for 30 gil, in which she very clearly states what she’ll do, and the client has to pay more if he wants extra services. The standard, however, is the hour for 80 gil. And as my business is down here, I always need a steady, regular foundation of girls willing to work within these price ranges for the slum folk.

‘Now, if you want to win the attention of the plate-dwellers, you have to put your back into it. Seeing as I used to live up there before opening this business, I have plenty of contacts who organize parties and who always need a fresh little well-groomed woman (or man) from my lot. They never admit it, but they love the raw quality of my women. I never doubted how successful I'd be if I worked with your slum girls; you have qualities that the women leading easier lives will never have. Which, mind you, is pretty understandable. Now, plate-dwellers very often become regulars, seeing as the starting price is so low. And with these fellows, I have them paying an exponential rate if they want to continue seeing you. Every time they see you, they pay a bit more. If the man doesn’t want to keep paying higher and higher then he switches to another girl – see, like a cycle, a chance for everyone to get a piece of the pie. Then, finally, when the prices get real high, it generally means that the client really has something going with my worker, and in that case, I let him have her if that's what they both want. Getting him to buy her wouldn't be right; like I said, I can't just fix prices on my women's heads. Some want to show their women how much they adore them and insist on buying them for extravagant prices- well, what can I say, it's like being impressed by expensive wine, isn't it? I can't really _refuse_ in those cases.’

‘You let strange men _buy_ girls from down here?’ Aeris said, and both Boss and Zack said ‘no’ at the same time, leaning in to correct her.

‘Not exactly,’ said Boss with a strained smile, clearly not appreciating the blunt allusion to him being some kind of slave trafficker. ‘Rather, it becomes a private arrangement between the girl and the client. I take myself out of the equation, and the girl becomes freelance. The ideal scenario would be like this; the client annuls my contract with the girl by paying a large sum of money to me. Mostly, it’s to cover any debts the girl still has towards me – at least, anything she hasn’t covered yet, as well as a symbolic gesture. Then, according to their own arrangement, he can buy her a flat, or otherwise help her to build a good little situation for herself on the Plate. And then it’s just smooth sailing from there. She frees up a place for another woman down here who wants to try her luck.’

Aeris couldn't take her eyes off him as he spoke. He looked like such a frightful character, and yet… what he was doing was of an unexpected, unimaginable kindness. This realization wiped clean the deception of the prices.

'It's a flux, really,’ he concluded.

‘You used to live up on the plate,’ Aeris echoed him feebly. She didn’t notice how intensely Zack was gazing at her – it was a mixture of tenderness and sadness, like he was happy that she approved of his place of work down here, but still didn’t really want her to get involved.

'Yes,' he said, nodding solemnly, 'and anyone who lives up there is a damn bastard if he never thinks at least once of those who live under him, in complete darkness and misery. You know, a lot of people disagree with what I'm doing. Others think like I do about the injustice of Midgar, but don't really know how to act. There are a lot who want to help, and so I've already got a good number of clients up there who spread the word. It's a good business you know. Every once in a while one of my girls manages to spin the less sensitive around, and that's always good- most of those kind of men are the richest little Shinra dogs who earn a bloody sin of money every month. Not only is it good for business, but it's good for the morale of this rotten city.'

He looked at Aeris, stopping his chatter, and reached over, his black eyes warmer than she would've thought possible. She slipped her hand into his outstretched one, and he stood and came around the desk to face her. He could see she was shaken; most of the girls were when he explained his business to them, but this one here had a different expression in her eyes. It was almost like she was relieved not only for herself but for all the women and men that he opened his doors to.

She wanted to express this expansive feeling that was taking up her entire chest; maybe she could say something real sappy, like 'This business you're running is absolutely beautiful', or 'You're a godsend', or something of like that… but then he'd taken her by the shoulders and was looking at her quite seriously.

'The goal of my business might be a respectable one, but that doesn't make the work any easier,' he said in the gravest of tones. Aeris nodded. She thought she knew what she was getting herself involved with… and she thought it couldn't really be that hard, as long as you get to live decently enough during the day. Right?

'I have to tell you that I lost three of my girls to some shady characters who took advantage of my system; but unless the Midgarian law does anything about it, I can't afford to track them and help them out. You've got to understand that the hearts of men are more often corrupted than not. When you’re in this business, I try to help you as much as I can, but in the end your own judgment is what’s most important. Yes?'

'Yes,' she said firmly.

'That's my girl,' the boss said. 'Aeris, is that it? Let's think of a pseudonym for you.'

'Uh…' She hadn't thought of that. Maybe it would be safer.

'Maybe something to do with your affinities? What you love?'

The earth. The sweet smell of loamy soil, of her garden in the slum church…

‘How about Gaia?’ Zack piped in with a big grin. ‘Gaia for the girl with the green thumb.’

Aeris looked over at him – they’d had the same thought. ‘Gaia’s cheesy,’ she protested.

‘Yeah, it kind of is. And to be honest, you probably won’t be using just the one name.’

‘I thought you just went by Zack?’ Aeris asked him.

‘Sometimes I stick a blond wig on and go by the name Rufus,’ Zack intimated, waggling his eyebrows at her, and she laughed as she imagined him cosplaying the president’s son.

‘You never told me that. What kinds of names do the other girls choose?’

The boss looked at them with one of those bushy eyebrows raised.

'The basic kind of names that women who want to hide their identity behind a glamorous façades use,' he said, as if all this bored him. 'Assassins and prostitutes name their own reputation rather than themselves. To deal out pleasure, or to deal out death… whichever it is, you're going to have men wanting you, so you better have a professional-sounding name.'

Aeris would've smiled if he hadn't used that vulgar term to define what she was about to be. Now that Zack had alerted her to the slur, she could feel its insulting quality all the more clearly.

'Why don't you both name me? I can't think of anything.'

As soon as she'd asked the favour, she wished she could take it back- Boss smiled at Zack, and they proceeded to bouncing the most ridiculously tarty names off each other. Boss walked around her as they made suggestions, two fingers on his lips as he examined her and tried to find something. Finally, just as she was about to tell them to forget it, he stopped in front of her and seemed to find some grain in the depths of her eye that he could not rip his gaze from.

'Those eyes… are most unusual. Much too green. They almost look like SOLDIER eyes, and yet…they don't exactly glow like the Mako eyes we're used to see, they…somehow, they seem to… pulsate. Yes. Most unusual…'

He still wouldn't look away. "Pearls of Lifestream they are, no doubt. You're a strange creature, Aeris. A chimera blending among beautiful women."

She glanced over at Zack, who knew exactly why that was, and they shared a secret smile.

'You know, apart from those in my sector, no one really knows me by my name…' She was about to say, 'only by my face and code number', but her boss didn't need to know that she was one of Shinra's most wanted targets.

Maybe she could do something with that number, actually…to laugh at them from the murky depths just under their feet. CS03AG was what they'd tattooed vertically behind her left ear, with a little encircled JP just under that, just behind her earlobe. She remembered; she'd been young when they'd taken her into their 'care'… she saw those letters everywhere. JP. JP. It never stopped. There weren't many others who had the encircled tattoo, except the man in the white blouse who called himself Hojo; maybe others who were as dedicated as him had tattooed themselves as a reminder, or for good luck, or Planet knows what.

"You are part of a great project," she remembered Hojo telling her once, threading wires into her skin and rubbing her needle-wounds with some kind of appeasing orange-ish goo. His eyes were far too lifeless, his forehead far too wide, his smile far too crooked for her to trust him; she remembered how she terrorized she was, wriggling as he held out her arm in an iron grip in order to go about his strange business. She'd flinch as he pricked her, she'd cry out and wail in fear as he took from her blood and skin samples, when he'd inject countless multicoloured 'tests' into her… but he'd still blabber to her about his precious plans, never getting tired of imagining his future grandeur. "When you'll be older, when you'll understand what an honour it is to be a part of this great thing, you'll be able to tell your loved ones, 'I helped the Jenova Project become a reality, I helped you all to plunge deep into your minds and find the ancient roots you forsook so long ago. I helped recreate the perfect Beings…'"

'So what will it be?'

Shaken back to reality, Aeris almost said 'Jenova Project' aloud: she managed to look at the man who'd sat back down at his desk, allowing her the time to think.

'I kind of like the name Chimera, if that’s what you were getting at earlier.'

That mustache bristled up as he smiled. "Lovely. I'm going to put you in my Menu now if you don’t mind, Chimera. Pose, darling, I need a nice portrait to go with your cleverly chosen, very original name."

Flash. A Polaroid picture came sliding from the camera, and she looked up at the boss, startled.

'What? Wh- I didn't even pose!'

'Ah, but you looked lovely in your musing, dear,' Boss smiled at her, before waving a paw at her. "Well, I'm giving you the ninth room to your right when you get upstairs. You better get going, I'll organize all this." He sighed. ‘One more thing. I’m going to need to test-run you, to see how much schooling you need. Is that alright with you?’

Seeing how Zack sat up quite straight, Aeris felt her heart begin to race. ‘Test run? What do you mean?’

‘Just to see if you need any training of any kind. We like to give our customers a certain quality of service here, so it’s just standard protocol for the girls to be put through the motions by an older worker.’

Boss looked between them – Aeris could hardly look at Zack, while Zack was staring insistently at her, surely waiting for her to mention something very important about her sexual experience. Namely, that she was starting at ground zero.

Aeris said nothing – just kept staring at Boss, waiting for specifics.

‘You mean – what do you mean, what kind of training?’ she blurted out.

Boss gave a loud ‘hah!’. ‘Well, I was going to see how well you can use a mop, and then some photocopying. What do you think? Training that is fitting for this kind of work. An amicable hour-long session with a male worker.’ His gaze shifted. ‘Zack? Would you mind taking her for a spin? As you both know each other.’

‘I, uh – isn’t there someone else?’

‘You know I don’t have that many men, and I _especially_ don’t have many men who have only three clients a night because they’re _picky_ ,’ Boss said, ruffling his mustache in Zack’s direction like some kind of accusation.

‘Oh, come on. Just because I’m not from down here – ’

‘Sorry, lad. The others are over-booked and actually need the money,’ Boss said with raised eyebrows, clearly pressing a point that they’d already discussed. He got up, placing his hands on the desk and looming over them importantly. ‘Off you trot now, young people. Ninth room on your right, please! Let’s go!’

Zack looked at Aeris, who still couldn’t quite spit out the words that could potentially save this situation – she was just struck dumb by how fast this arrangement had gone, how easily she’d been accepted, and she didn’t want to do or say anything that might take the job opportunity away. Especially with the kind of stakes that Boss had just laid out for her. She tucked in her chin, ignoring Zack’s frantic attempts to get her attention, and got up.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, giving a little bow, then she finally turned to look at Zack who was as pale as a sheet. They both exited the room, and she followed him to the staircase where girls were leading their clients up to their rooms.

‘OK,’ Zack mumbled without looking at her. ‘I don’t know what just happened, but, uh.’

‘Let’s just go,’ Aeris mumbled back, taking his hand and pulling him up the stairs.  

• • •


	2. Chapter 2

**• • •**

‘I had no idea,’ Zack was saying as he shut the door to the ninth room on the right. ‘Protocol isn’t usually like this. I mean, he _has_ had me test-run like two girls before but in both cases there had been special circumstances, so I didn’t expect – Aeris, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’

Aeris stepped in, taking in the room. ‘Rickety’ had definitely been the right word to describe it – there were two windows on the far wall, covered by wonky, broken blinds; a white wardrobe on the right with pink petals painted on; a low double bed on the left that took up most of the room, with a double-poster frame that hung crookedly around it. Only one gauze curtain had survived, wrapped around one of the ceiling posts in a light pink froth.

‘I trust you to not be a total weirdo when it comes to sex, anyway,’ Zack said from behind her. ‘You just _have_ to say something about the virginity thing. Maybe it won’t be a problem, maybe he’ll even – ’

‘Zack. Stop it.’ Aeris sat down on the bed, preparing the questions in her mind. She had rationalized all of this long before coming – she’d gotten used to the idea of losing her virginity in some mechanical, pragmatic setting, so she found that she wasn’t as disgusted or surprised by this scenario as she thought.

She just wished Zack didn’t feel so uncomfortable, because it was going to make it a hell of a lot harder to do this.

‘Tell me honestly,’ she said. ‘How much did you earn per week, in the beginning?’

He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘That isn’t relevant. We’re different people, we’re going to have different – ’

‘Please.’

He stood there for a moment, one of his knees kind of jerking nervously back and forth, before taking a step and letting himself fall onto the bed behind her with a frustrated _uurggh._

‘I was a bit shit in the beginning,’ he mumbled into the pillows.

‘Tell me anyway.’

‘Four hundred a week? Something like that?’

She looked at his outstretched body, the long legs, the flat hips and slender waist, the attractively built chest and shoulders that she’d never sexualized at all. She tried to look at him in a different light, concentrate on how his T-shirt bunched at the waist and was showing a bit of skin around the hipbone. She tried imagining that she was that fabric, folding around his smooth tanned skin.

‘Then it’s worth it,’ she murmured.

‘I can’t do this,’ Zack said. ‘I can’t just do this mechanically. Sex with the clients is what it is – you say hello, take off your clothes, wham bam thank you ma’am and laugh about it afterwards. But this, I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

He heaved himself onto one elbow so that she could see his face.

‘It’s just, it’s _you_ ,’ Zack said. ‘I only partially care if I hurt my client’s feelings. I’ll lie about them being a lousy lay, I’ll simulate all of it sometimes. But… it’s not the same dynamic with a real person. You’re a real fucking person, Aeris.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Aeris said with a grin. Her heart was in her throat. She wished he wasn’t making it so difficult. ‘Let’s just get it over with, OK?’

Virginity was like a band-aid, she remembered Gale saying. Just rip it off. She put her bag at the foot of the bed, and before Zack could even do anything, she took the hem of her dress and pulled it right up above her head, ruffling her braid in the process. Zack shifted so he was looking away from her, remaining solemnly silent as she chucked away the dress. She looked down – she was still wearing her boots.

‘Boots before dress, I suppose,’ she muttered.

She leaned over to tug them off, and heard the mattress springs groan as Zack sat up.

‘Hey, hey.’ He put a hand on her naked back, palm on her bra clasp. Then it came away again as if she’d burned him. ‘Sorry. I mean – slow down.’

She threw the boots away, then sat up, blowing a long chestnut strand away from her face as she looked over at him.

‘Why? Come on, take this off,’ she said, grabbing his T-shirt, and he laughed as he grabbed her wrists to stop her.

Her heart was pounding so hard, she wondered if he could feel her pulse in his hands as he held her there, sitting too close for comfort. She was suddenly hyper-aware of how the air was cold on her naked skin, and how she’d never combined that sensation and Zack’s presence before. She wanted to cover up.

She stared resolutely at Zack’s plain blue T-shirt and said, ‘Come on, show me some solidarity here. I can’t be the only naked one.’

Zack blew air through his nose nervously. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling as he reached for his own T-shirt and compliantly pulled it off.

She watched his abs stretch and then settle back into an impressive grid, his cushion-like pectoral muscles and biceps contracting as he pulled the shirt down his arms. She’d seen him half naked before, it shouldn’t have been any big revelation. But, in this context – it was like she was seeing him for the first time. Noticing little things, like how he had this downy sheen of blond hairs covering his skin, making him glow. Or how his unruly spikes of black hair fell across his naked shoulders and made her want to brush them away. Her eyes climbed his jaw, his lips, up the straight nose and into those deep blue eyes. His expression was identical to when he'd first seen her performing magic, as kids. Awed and slightly afraid.     

‘It’s gonna be fine,’ he muttered as he lay down again and undid his trouser button. Aeris reached back and unclasped her bra, holding it on her breasts while Zack kicked his trousers off. He was wearing pants with some kind of Moogle design on them.

‘You can’t be serious,’ Aeris said. ‘Your clients like you in those?’

‘Hey, I was going to change,’ Zack said. ‘Do you hear me criticizing your granny knickers?’

Aeris pushed his shoulder playfully, and then they both sort of sat staring at each other’s hands and waiting for someone to make the first move.

‘Right,’ Aeris said. ‘Right. Underwear.’

‘There’s no rush,’ Zack murmured. ‘Why don’t you lie down and try to relax?’

Aeris complied. She clenched her jaw so that her teeth wouldn’t chatter with how nervous she was. Her head sank down into the cushions, raising a cloud of old-lady perfume. She lay stiff as a board with one arm still holding her bra against her.

Zack sat next to her, looking only at her face. His smile was beginning to fade as he tried to get into character.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘You want to keep the bra?’

‘I really shouldn’t, should I,’ Aeris muttered, and she closed her eyes. Like a band-aid, she reminded herself, and she brushed away the lace. Cold air met her naked breasts, and she could feel her nipples puckering up. Again, bare puckered nipples and _Zack_ were not elements that had ever been allowed to occupy the same space. She felt like she was lying next to herself, watching herself go through the motions. 

‘You can keep some clothes on if you just want us to do the one thing,’ Zack said. ‘You know. Just the penetration. We don’t have to go all slurpy on each other.’

Aeris giggled. ‘You make it sound so charming.’

‘Yeah, you know I can charm the pants off anyone.’

‘Still haven’t charmed mine off, it seems,’ Aeris said, though her thighs instinctively pressed together at the idea of the knickers coming off.

‘Honestly though, if you want to keep some clothes on – ’

‘No, it’s OK. I want the full experience. So I won’t get any nasty surprises about how things feel.’

There was a heavy silence. Neither of them moved a finger.

‘Can’t you just pretend I’m one of your clients?’ she said.

‘That’s going to be difficult, to be honest. Everyone has a different body and yours… well.’ Aeris opened her eyes to see Zack finally looking down at her naked chest, her stomach and hips. Just feeling his eyes on her was enough to set off goosebumps. ‘Your body is yours. It doesn’t look like anyone else’s.’

‘What if we covered your eyes?’ Aeris said, and Zack snorted.

‘Won’t be very good at aiming then, will I?’

‘Then what? Put a bag on my head?’

They both laughed, and Zack took his T-shirt and dumped it on her face. ‘There we go. Now you can be anonymous Gertrude, come for a 40-gil shag.’

‘I’m warning you sonny, I haven’t had many men in my day,’ Aeris said in a wobbly old-lady voice, and Zack kept on laughing until he noticed how her small breasts were bouncing a little, and he slowly stopped as he let his eyes roam over this body that he’d finally been allowed to see. Of course, as a growing boy he’d been curious about what women looked like naked, and in the disinterested way of hormonal teenagers, he’d imagined what it might be like to have sex with his closest female friend. His school friends and later even his Soldier friends would tease him about his and Aeris’ relationship, how he could possibly _not_ feel attracted to her, and endless requests to be introduced to her if he wasn’t going to ‘tap that’, etc, etc. He felt like he was betraying her, somehow, to be looking at her body and feeling attracted. Aroused, even. His eyes homed in on the little triangle of pink fabric that bunched around her pubic bone, and he felt his loins stirring.

‘OK, ma’am,’ he said softly. ‘You don’t have to speak. You don’t even have to touch me. It’s all about you.’

Aeris gave an amused ‘hmm’ from under the T-shirt, and Zack let his gaze sweep up again to her hidden face. He couldn’t start anywhere too sensitive. He had to start by the basics. He moved to straddle her hips, carefully settling his weight on her upper thighs. He saw her ribs move up as she breathed in surprise, stretching her flat white belly. There were moles dotting her skin, and he found himself smiling as he bounced his eyes from one to the next. A few on the abs, one just under her left breast, and a couple along her throat. Almost tracing a path.

He rolled the T-shirt up over her chin, then over her mouth. She was grinning, too. He licked his dry lips and leaned over her. She felt strands of his hair brush her jaw, and she slowly lost her smile, lips parting with anticipation. For him, it felt like the first time he’d had to jump off a cliff in the Virtual Reality Simulator. They’d told him, run and jump, once you’re over, you’re over. It’s the waiting that’s the real agony. Run and jump, he reminded himself, and then he bumped his lips against hers, the foreignness of the contact spearing right through him.

Their lips parted without a sound, and then he tried again, not letting himself pause to think. This time he nabbed her lower lip, shared a little wetness, parted with a proper kissing sound. She was breathing a little heavier by the second. She brought her chin up, and this time he unlocked her lips with his tongue, filling her mouth. When he broke off, her teeth started chattering.

‘You cold?’ he murmured.

She gave a laugh. ‘Just scared.’

‘If you’re scared, we don’t – ’

‘No, no, it’s OK,’ she said. ‘It’s nice.’

He smiled. He could work with that. He looked down at her neck, placed his hands on either side of her and let his chest slide up hers, pressing the length of his body against her. He could feel her nipples like two little rocks against his pecs as he bent his head to kiss her neck.

‘Your skin is so soft,’ Aeris muttered, sounding surprised. He felt her fingertips alight on his waist. ‘Can I - ?’

‘Sure.’ He kissed her under the ear, then as her hands stroked his back all the way up to his shoulder blades, he bit down, rolling the earlobe gently between his teeth. He could feel goosebumps breaking over his skin under her feathery touch and he closed his eyes, trying not to make a sound. He couldn’t believe how fast this was building him up – he could feel how hard he was getting, how she must’ve been able to feel his erection press against her thigh. 

He lifted himself off her a little, then ventured down, kissing her all the way. His mouth pressed into the soft flesh of her breasts, and he felt her tensing, arching her back towards him as he explored her silky cleavage. Then he pressed his open mouth over one nipple, and she gasped audibly. He rolled it around his tongue and she gave a tiny groan, squirming away from him.

‘Gaia,’ she whispered.

He stopped. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Can you – maybe not do that?’ she said with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m super sensitive there and it’s just – ’

‘ – weird for me to be doing it. I understand.’

He kissed all the way down her belly, then slid his hand between her clenched thighs. She gave way to his touch, opening her thighs just a fraction, clearly still afraid. He sat there and kissed her knees, then all along the inside of one thigh, going slow enough for her to open her legs at her own pace. Gradually, he’d fitted his head snugly between her thighs and he was getting to the ticklish parts just above her crotch. She twitched and giggled as he kissed her there. Then he let his mouth hover over her pink knickers, catching a whiff of her womanly scent. He had the strangest sensation that he was putting his head between a Behemoth’s open jaws – one wrong move and he’d get decapitated.

He could see a tiny damp patch on the pink cotton, and he smiled, heart thumping as he realized she was at least enjoying herself on some level. He wondered if he should ask permission, but she was lying there waiting, chest trembling as she breathed tiny breaths. It was permission enough. He kissed her through her knickers, feeling how hot and smooth she was under the fabric.  

He heard her gasp. He gave a few more open-mouthed kisses, pressing his tongue into the damp dip and her thighs clenched around his head. When he glanced up at her she’d brought her hands up to her face, pressing her eyes through the T-shirt. 

He straightened up, hooked his fingers into the elastic band of her knickers. She raised her hips a little, and he pulled them all the way down her legs.

‘You want me to show you how we do oral in here?’ he asked her.

‘I don’t know,’ Aeris murmured. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know – ’

‘It’s with full protection,’ Zack said. ‘I’ll only be a minute, don’t worry.’

She brushed the T-shirt off her face as he leaned over her and reached for the bedside table drawer. He saw how red and flushed her face was as she lay there panting, and he felt a clenching between his legs as he observed his handiwork. Then he took some condoms and a pair of scissors out the drawer, and sat between her legs.

‘What is this, arts and crafts?’ she said, and he grinned.

‘You need to do this every time someone asks to go down on you, OK?’ he told her, snipping through the rolled-up edge of a condom and rolling the latex out so that it formed one big square. Zack brought it up to his face, stretching the square with both hands, and poked his tongue against it so the latex moulded around the pointy tip. Aeris laughed.

‘What am I supposed to do with that?’

‘Want me to demonstrate?’

‘Ugh. Go on then, if you must.’

Zack placed the square of latex over her mound, delicately spreading her lips so she’d be open enough and not too squashed underneath it. Aeris moved up onto her elbows to see what was going on, and she made a little embarrassed sound as she saw how her labia were completely mashed under there.

‘I look like a piece of packaged ham,’ she groaned, and Zack burst out laughing.

‘No you don’t,’ he assured her. Then he leaned down, and pressed the tip of his tongue into the dips around her clit through the latex. She threw her head back at the sudden sensation, and when he rolled her clit around his tongue her elbows gave way and she collapsed onto her back, bringing her hands up to cover her face again.

‘ _Crisis_ ,’ she groaned, closing her legs around his head. Zack smiled through the taste of latex, and gave her a few more kisses before straightening up and peeling the thing off her.   

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’

Aeris peeked through her hands at him, at how she could practically see the full definition of his cock down to the bulging veins under that ridiculous Moogle motif. She grinned, clenching her chattering teeth together.

‘Yeah, OK.’

Once the pants were off, there ensued a hilarious ‘how to put on a condom’ lesson to try and take her mind off of how big she thought Zack was. He reassured her that he was quite an average size, that she just hadn’t seen enough to be able to compare. Then once he’d managed to get her to put a condom on him without scratching or pinching or tearing the condom itself, he got her to lie back again, thighs open. She wasn’t smiling any more, now – she was looking away, biting her lip, arms covering her breasts.

‘Did someone tell you – ?’

‘It’s going to hurt, I know,’ she said.

‘I’ll be as gentle as I can,' he murmured, then he angled himself with one hand. It felt wrong to be this aroused when she didn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but this was what she wanted. This was his mission.

He pressed against her entrance, feeling the soft pink folds enveloping his head. She gave a small whimper, closing her eyes. He pushed the head of his cock into her slowly, watching how her back arched, her skull digging into the pillow. He stayed, easing slowly in and out again, trying not to make a sound – she was unbelievably tight.

‘That’s OK,’ Aeris whispered. ‘That’s actually not so bad.’

He could feel how everything sort of closed up just beyond, so he tentatively pushed a little further. Immediately her face creased into a frown, her teeth gritting. 

‘Hurts,’ she gasped. He pulled back. ‘No, just do it,’ she said. ‘Do it quickly.’

Obediently he pushed, and pushed, unable to look at how her face contorted with pain, and then he had broken through – she gave a little cry as he thrust inside her, hips pressing into the underside of her thighs. He kept going, thinking that if he stimulated her enough then the pain would go away – her hands came up to his neck, and she held onto him as he thrust into her again and again.   

‘Are you,’ she breathed, ‘are you inside?’

He gave a short laugh, too overcome with how amazingly clenched she was around him to answer straight away.

‘I think I am, yeah,’ he told her in a choked voice.

‘I can’t feel anything,’ she said. He looked down at her face, how her green eyes glittered up at him, her cheeks like two red apples. With superhuman effort he managed to pull out of her, and then collapsed next to her to catch his breath.

‘Sorry,’ Aeris mumbled.

‘It’s fine. You need a break, and then it’ll feel a bit better.’

They lay there for a while, Zack checking his watch to make sure they’d have time to resume, Aeris breathing slowly. They only had twenty minutes left, so he decided to give her ten to calm down, and perhaps the next ten to give her a taste of what it really felt like. He looked at her trembling body, how white she was, how delicate her wrists and hipbones and tiny feet looked. He’d never seen such a tiny and yet harmoniously proportioned body, and now that he knew how it felt to be inside her he felt like he was seeing her completely differently. His heart was beating quite heavily with a feeling he was afraid to admit.

‘Hey. We did it,’ Zack prompted, and Aeris looked over at him. She finally smiled, and when he held up his hand, she obliged him with a high-five.

Once they’d rested enough, he climbed ontop of her again, having remained hard all the while. Aeris had definitely noticed, but she wasn’t cracking any jokes about it – he wondered if it made her uncomfortable, for him to be so blatantly turned on by her like this. But once he was on top of her again, those questions faded away. He pressed against her again, his mind empty of anything that wasn’t the sensation of her closing around him. He looked down at her face as he entered her: her eyes were closed, face turned away, but there was no pain – she only frowned in surprise, her lips parting as he filled her completely. He gave a few thrusts, unable to repress his own moans as she unconsciously contracted and massaged his erection from the base to the tip.

‘Better?’ he asked.

‘Better,’ she concurred.

He kept going for a few deliciously long minutes, and then he buried his face in her neck as his thrusts gained in speed. Her arms were around his shoulders, and she wasn’t making a sound, just panting. He wished he knew what was going through her head.

‘Aeris,’ Zack hissed through gritted teeth. ‘I’m building up really fast.’

‘Oh. Is that bad?’

He smiled. ‘I’m just – I’m gonna come if I keep going.’

‘Oh, OK,’ she said.

‘Do you mind?’

‘I said I wanted the full experience, didn’t I? If it’s weird, you don’t have to – ’

‘No, it’s – _uurghh_ – ’ The orgasm immediately crashed through him as though it had been awaiting her approval, his balls clenching as he spilled himself into her in overwhelming pulses. She made a tiny sound, holding onto him loosely. He groaned into her neck for a few more seconds, eyes squeezed shut. Then the forbidden quality of the exchange switched from arousing to embarrassing again, and he pulled out, sheepishly turning his back to her as he sat and eased the condom off.

He felt a rustling behind him as he took care of the sodden latex, and then Aeris was sitting behind him, having donned his T-shirt so she could hug him from behind without any more discomfort.

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled against his back.

‘Wasn’t too bad, right?’

‘Yeah, it was kind of OK.’

Zack had the energy to laugh. ‘I’ll put that under my profile in the Bee menu. Professional Escort Zack: Kind of OK.’

Aeris giggled, chin bobbing against his shoulder. He put the tied up condom on the bedside table and Aeris gave a companionable _ewww_ as he untangled his fingers from it.

They sat in relative silence for a moment, and then she said, ‘Hey Zack… we’re gonna be fine, aren’t we?’

He could still feel that throbbing in his chest, that new desire to hold her and not allow anyone else to touch her. The excitement about having unlocked this new section of their relationship. Except it had only been a one-off thing. He had to remind himself of it as he leaned back into her embrace. Just a one-off thing.

 ‘Yeah, we’re gonna be fine,’ he told her.

**•**

After the first two weeks, Aeris already had slum regulars. She could never remember their names since she encountered so many different men every night, so in her head she named them after weird things she remembered about them. One of them was Parmesan Cheese, since he had some kind of fungus on his feet meaning he always kept his socks on but radiated that cheesy smell. He’d been her first – Aeris had been totally open about being new to the job, and he’d enjoyed the privilege, being extra gentle with her and treating her like she was his. Another was Boob Man, who only ever booked hour-long sessions to slurp all over her breasts. He’d hold them for the first half hour, talking about his life working at the train station, and then when he got excited he’d start nibbling, much to Aeris’ dismay. He paid over the average price, however, so she’d sit there with her shoulders up to her ears and endure the nibbling of her over-sensitive nipples until she felt like she could scream down the whole place. The third was the Plum Guy, who made jam from imported plums, and who had elected her as the new girl he’d give his pots to. When she took to making herself jam sandwiches as midnight snacks, Zack told her to bring the jam pots home instead – they would attract rats, and she didn’t want to make an enemy of the girl who used to receive them, either.

She hadn’t made many friends – she would sit in the bar area with Zack, smiling whenever a girl sat to talk to him, but otherwise the girls didn’t seem interested in her. Zack told her they usually waited to see if new girls had the stamina to stay, and only then, they would become interested. The place’s turn-over rate was so high that it just wasn’t worth it to make friends with all the girls who passed through for a few weeks. They were testing her.

One thing Zack got her into, however, was peeping through keyholes. Everyone did it. When there was a particularly renowned client, or a particularly weird one, little groups of workers would gather at one of the doors and pass down what was happening to those who couldn’t see. One of the girls was a fully fledged dominatrix and her door practically always had spectators – she’d actually installed a proper peephole, because she knew the educative value of watching. Particularly for those who wanted to get into her trade.    

She was one of the most intimidating workers here. She always wore extravagant costumes, shiny rubber and metal and wigs and extreme make-up. Aeris never really knew what she looked like, except that she’d always be the most extravagant-looking one in the room. None of her looks were consistent so that if you passed her in the street without any make-up on, you wouldn’t recognize her. During a particularly dead night in the third week, a familiar blue suit entered the bar, and Aeris had hidden behind the beaded curtains that sectioned off the champagne tables. But the dominatrix had been in the bar, and the Turk had only had eyes for her.

Aeris had watched as the dominatrix grabbed him by the tie and led him up the stairs, and there was an osmosis of girls in the bar, all of them chattering about the client. Zack had come down from a booking, looked around, and Aeris stepped out from behind the beaded curtains for him. He homed in on her, still smelling of soap from the shower he had to take after every booking.

‘Did you see who that was?’

‘Wasn’t that _Rude?_ ’ Aeris said.

‘Come and see, this is a particularly good show,’ Zack told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her upstairs. There were girls outside the room already, piled on top of each other in a gaggle of sheer fabric and cheap jewellery, and Zack mercilessly pressed Aeris into them.

‘Make way, make way, Chimera hasn’t seen it yet!’ he said. The girls grumbled a bit, but a few of them helped pull Aeris to the door.

‘Watch and learn,’ one of them said, laughing, and Aeris pressed her eye against the peephole, hoping the domme wouldn’t mind.

Rude was standing in the middle of the room, naked. His feet were in some sort of black, shining pool of fabric. The domme pulled the black up his legs, and Aeris realized it was some kind of full body suit. She was kneeling, easing the black rubber up and sometimes shaking a pot of talcum powder over it, probably to make it glide better. It took some time for Rude to be completely enveloped in black, belts around his chest getting tightened as well as the harness around his crotch. It must’ve been tight and hot as hell in there. Only his bald head protruded. Aeris obligedly whispered what was going on to the girls around her as she watched, transfixed by this bizarre show. Then the domme led him to a giant cross in the corner of her room, and tied him there, arms up and legs stretched out.

‘Stay still,’ the domme said.    

‘Yes, mistress,’ said Rude, his eyes closed. Aeris had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing. The domme held up more black rubber, and eased some kind of rubber mask over his head so that he was now completely covered in it. There was only a gash for his lips and nose, so he could breathe. Then the domme went to the wall, took a gadget out of the socket where it had been charging, and turned it on. There was a buzzing sound – some kind of vibrator? She stood in front of Rude, held it up to his chest area, and he gave a deep groan as she traveled down his body with it.

 ‘Be quiet,’ she snapped.

‘Apologies, Mistress,’ he gasped.

When she brought the vibrator down to his crotch, Aeris couldn’t hold it any more – she turned around, pushed away from the door so that other girls immediately stole her position, and burst into uncontrollable giggles. Zack joined her, pulling her out of the group and further down the corridor so she could make noise.

‘I will never be able to unsee that,’ she gasped through her laughter.

‘Remember, what happens in the Bee stays in the Bee,’ Zack reminded her.

‘I know, I know. But – if _Rude_ comes down here, then who else from ShinRa will I bump into?’

Zack raised his eyebrows enigmatically. ‘If you only knew!’  

**• • •**

After the first month, Elmyra began to get suspicious. Aeris was working three nights a week now, and as it had become a regular cycle Elmyra would ask her to be specific about where she went, what people she frequented. She’d never liked how Aeris hung around the less privileged parts of the slums, and she had good reason to be worried – so Aeris was finding it harder to be credible.

One night at the Bee, partway through the second month, she’d slumped at the bar area with a glass of cookie-flavoured Bailey’s. It was uncharacteristic for her – she never drank on the job. A few men approached her, but she wasn’t in the right mindset to close the sale, so she lost them to other more persistent girls. She hardly cared, really – she was too busy trying to nurse her misery. She had no idea how Elmyra would react, but judging by how she only wanted the best for Aeris and had always kept her away from the sleazier districts, she couldn’t possibly react well. Even if Aeris was doing this as much for Elmyra’s benefit as for her own, she still felt like it was… selfish, somehow. Selfish that she hadn’t made more of an effort in other workplaces. But to get to the Bee rates she’d probably have to work four regular jobs without sleeping – so what was she supposed to do?

Zack had come in late as usual, and immediately come to see how she was doing.

‘It’s the ‘hey mum I’m a sex worker’ problem,’ Aeris told him, and he sat down next to her, understanding the urgency of the situation.

'OK,’ he said. ‘We can handle this. Has she found out?’

‘Nah, she’s just asking a lot of questions. I had some of my friends as alibis but now she’s actually calling them to make sure they’re with me…’ She sighed. ‘I mean, I understand why she’s worried. I just need a better alibi than the floral art thing. It makes no sense to have to work on bouquets at night.’

Zack took her hands in his. She looked up at him, smiling defeatedly. Their friendship thankfully hadn’t been too rocked by what had happened between them, but sometimes he would wear a strangely intense expression when he looked at her. For now she just chalked it up to his brotherly affections having ballooned since having to guide her around in here and protect her. But… she sincerely hoped it wasn’t anything more problematic than that.

‘Right. I’ve actually had an idea about that for a while now,’ he said.

Aeris raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Yeah?’

He cleared his throat, then put on an important kind of air. ‘Well, as you and I both know we’d make a rather amazing couple, I think we’d better start propagating some rumours if you know what I mean.’

Aeris smirked. ‘Zack. What on Gaia’s good earth are you talking about.’

He looked positively hurt. ‘I’m offering myself as a cover-up for your long, inexplicable nights. Do you accept?’ Now he sounded as solemn as if he was asking her to marry him. Aeris stared at him, still not quite understanding his offer.

‘Tell your mother and whoever's annoying enough to ask that you've finally found yourself a proper man – what?’ She was laughing behind her hands. Wisely, he chose to ignore her; he had a very good idea of what she thought of him. ‘So you've found a man, and seeing as he's a Soldier, he's very busy during the day so you have to give him your nights to be able to see him. She can call me if she’s worried. You alright with that?’

‘I guess… oh, Crisis, she’s going to tease me so much. Remember how they all used to think we’d get married when we were little?’ she groaned, and Zack laughed. She took a minute to think about how her entourage would take this. And then, how she'd take it. And then she looked down at her hands and nodded. ‘This doesn’t mean you-know-what is going to happen again though. OK?’

‘Aeris, for Gaia’s sake,’ Zack said. ‘You’ve got to stop thinking that every time I talk to you I’m trying to get in your pants. I already _got_ in your pants. I’m just saying. Flowers, boyfriend things lying around your room, maybe fake sex noises whenever I sleep round yours. Just to seal the deal.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be good at the sex noises,’ Aeris said, grinning. He smiled back at her, and again there was that odd intensity, like he remembered their little session a little too fondly. Aeris fidgeted. She wasn’t sure she liked that new dimension of their friendship – these strange, pregnant pauses.

‘Alright. I think this warrants a handshake,’ she said, and held out her hand. He took it, and they both put on silly faces as they shook mock-formally.

‘Pleasure doing business with you, my friend,’ Aeris drawled.

‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ Zack riposted, a little too authentically. Aeris just smiled, heart pounding, and looked away.

 **  
****• • •**  

The Boss looked up from his paperwork.

‘Ah! Come in, my dear, come in.’

Aeris was wearing a blue cardigan over a summer dress, looking ridiculously innocent as always though her face betrayed the blossoming femininity that was steadily growing its thorns. Standing by the door, she glowered down at him rather regally. Then the door snapped shut as she came forward.

‘How  _are_  you?’ He'd looked up from his papers, fingers knotted together. Apparently it was a bit of an honour to get the Boss to lift his head to acknowledge you when you were one of his relatively average workers – but Aeris didn't care about whether or not he had tender feelings for her or whatnot.

‘Fine,’ she said curtly. She tried to respond with small talk, but couldn’t. ‘I wanted to ask. Why am I not getting paid daily anymore?’

His expression froze for a second around his moustache, and she could almost hear each coarse hair bristling up against its neighbour, sole island of life on a greasy plain of skin that lay crumpled over that constantly scheming mind. He had very probably been expecting that, and now he was opening the appropriate mental files where premeditated answers had been stowed away.

‘Did no one tell you? That’s how it goes, once you hit a certain amount of earnings. You shift to a weekly pay. And after that, at the next level, it becomes monthly,’ he said. He jumped a little as she noisily dragged a chair across the floor towards herself with a dainty, red-tipped foot.

‘What do you mean, no one told me? Aren’t _you_ the one who’s supposed to tell me this kind of thing?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve been quite swamped. I was expecting you girls to talk among yourselves.’

‘So there’s no way to switch back to daily earnings?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Boss’s moustache quirked rather dangerously. ‘Because this is how I run my business, Chimera. If you’re earning above three hundred a night, shouldn’t you be saving enough to be fine for a week anyway?’

Aeris glowered at how he was just expecting her to be sensible with the money she made. She could only imagine how other less privileged girls would react, girls who needed a regular daily income.

‘Right,’ Aeris huffed, languidly indifferent to his impatience as she slid down onto the chair. Legs stretched at their full length under the desk – if she stretched her toes she could knock her bare feet against his polished black shoes. ‘I'm sorry. It just gave me a little shock, realizing that you don't necessarily tell your girls – employees – of business that involves them."

He smiled at her condescendingly. 'There's been several girls like you who took me for somewhat of a paternal figure. That's probably because my profile doesn't really fill the archetype of the 'pimp', but still, that's what I essentially  _am_ , darling – your pimp.'

She looked at him from under her lashes.

'My pimp.'

'Yes.'

'… my pimp.' Then she laughed. 'I'm sorry, that's just – wow. My pimp.'

A frown came to mar his greasy forehead. He observed her as her gaze drifted into the distance for a second, lips parted in a mysterious little smile that held no mirth – more like, the absolute detachment of wonder, of numb realization.

‘You still have a lot to get used to, darling,’ he crooned, the caring quality of his tone barely covering the fact that he wanted to be left to his accounts. ‘All you need to know right now is that I have all your files, and that I decide the events, the replacements, essentially all the business that you're involved in. Monthly pay occurs only after a very high threshold has been pierced, and by then you will probably be experienced enough to know how to properly deal with your earnings. I’m not in the habit of making exceptions, except with girls who have been working here a long time – girls I can trust.’

‘But you're in the habit of forgetting to tell us vital things like that?’ She wouldn't lower those insolent green eyes of hers, try as he might to puff out his chest under the regal pink shirt that stretched over it.

He sighed, elbows leaving the table as he straightened; the leather creaking around his back as it swallowed him spoke even louder of his impatience than the look he was giving her. ‘Look, we are all professionals here. When I hold onto your money, it generates interest. And I’ve got to make the most of that interest so that I have enough to keep the place clean and well managed. I’m not trying to embezzle you, OK? I don’t have a sprawling mansion up above if that’s what you think. If you have other questions or doubts about me, I suggest you go to the older girls. For now I've got work to do.’

Aeris looked at him; there was something about this place that made her insolent, something about him that made her want to revert to the same base individualism that the professionals all enjoyed here. But crushed as she was under that beetle-black gaze, she almost felt her spine curling in resignation; she lowered her eyes, nodding.

‘And in the future,’ he continued gravely, ‘please consider that I've got a full house  _and_  Upperworld contracts to take care of, so unless it's a matter of utter importance I prefer not to be disturbed.’ Her eyes caught the reflections of his many rings, and she followed his hands as they absently stroked that ridiculous tie of his. ‘The only times that I'll summon you will be when I have a big contract for you, or when I'm organizing an event that includes quite a few of you. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She was trying to recover her dignity a little. It wouldn't do to constantly act the child when this had been her choice.

‘Good.’

**• • •**

I'm not going to say that slipping over the edge has never tempted me. Nowadays, it’s even worse. Being surrounded by gorgeous women all the time makes me wonder if I could ever swing that way – I catch myself sometimes, staring at one of the girls and imagining how she’d look, looming over me with that peachy skin and strawberry lipgloss. Perhaps it’s something to do with our customers being so grotty and all the girls smelling clean and looking perfect all the time. You end up yearning for someone to touch who _doesn’t_ feel and smell like an unswept floor, and who knows what on earth they’re doing.

Zack had warned me not to play around with my colleagues but this doesn't seem to be about money. She wants me to teach her.

She came in just a few minutes ago, while I was blow-drying my hair after the perfunctory post-booking shower; she calls herself Promise. I'm still looking her up and down, not quite believing that a woman of her physical calibre could possibly want any advice from me.

‘Why me?’ I ask her.

‘You're already getting Upperworld customers and you've hardly been here three months,’ she says.

‘Really?’ It's almost embarrassing to be so ignorant about what's supposed to be sustaining my life down here, but the Boss never really gives us a heads-up about who it is we're meeting, unless there are vital things to be avoided if we want to keep our heads.

‘Of course, Chimera. I would like you to show me what's earning you such a fast-spreading reputation.’

I bet Zack's looking through the keyhole. There's no other explanation; he set me up. I'm not receiving Upworlders. I can't be. My pay check has hardly budged; 80 Gil for the hour, occasional specialty sessions. So unless I've been getting particularly despicable rich men who won't spare a single coin over the starting price, I don't see how she can think my talents have earned me any particular privileges.

Also;

‘Reputation?’

‘As the girl Chimera, of course,’ she assures me, as if I need reminding – it's not like Chimera and I have different faces. This thought has plagued me night after night lately; surely the clients don't divulge anything other than what they did, and the relevant body parts involved - but what if someone starts speaking about my face? I can’t have Elmyra know what I’m up to, not yet. Not before I’ve got something to show for all my efforts. (Tseng, though… Tseng is a different story. I try not to think about whether or not he knows.)

‘Show me,’ Promise whispers. She starts walking towards me, pert little feet peeking out from beneath the flowing translucent pink of her dress. ‘You don't have to be afraid. You can even say no if you don't want to. Just decide.’

I let her thread her way through the clutter of sheets and various drapes hanging from the ceiling; her hips sweep against the vague lines of her dress, giving her figure a vanishing erotic substance with each step. She's looking at me with a quiet insistence. I can't help… being affected. But it's not my fault. Anybody with a functioning hormonal system would be affected. The way her dark curls bump against her neck, skim past her round shoulders and reach her waist … she smells so nice. She _looks_ so nice.

‘OK,’ I say. I feel positively giddy as I watch her gliding towards me like a dream. I've never met a man who has as much elegance as that, but then again they're men, aren't they? And she's supposed to be seductive, she's supposed to be beautiful, and elegant, and … her hand takes mine. Her skin is so soft – it's a girl, Aeris! You don't  _do_  girls! Aeris! What are you doing?

I'm kissing her. Oh, Crisis, I'm kissing her. I can feel her smiling, and then those soft palms are on my wrists and she's guiding my hands towards her waist.

‘You know, it should be you guiding me,’ she says against my mouth, and I can't believe how wanton my groan sounds when she breaks the kiss to say that.

‘Sorry,’ I say, feeling my cheeks growing hot. My insides have become cottony clouds. ‘It’s just – I don't know if I have anything to teach you. You're clearly mesmerizing enough to turn even a straight girl's head, so…’

She laughs a tinkering laugh. ‘That's precisely what you have to teach me,’ she says. ‘Shyness. Modesty.’

I'm already aching to touch more of her. I've never had this with my customers – when they take their clothes off most of the time I'm trying not to look elsewhere than their faces, since most of them have clear proof of their poor living standards marking their bodies. I always feel like I'm offending them by looking too closely at their dry muscles, the craggy profusion of veins, the sunken temples and hollows around the hips, the knees like crumbling rocks. I try to keep as much cloth as I can to lessen the contact between my skin and theirs. But, now… I feel like if she doesn't spread the softness of her hands over the rest of my body, I'll curl up at her feet and beg her for it.

‘First of all,’ I say, trying not to stammer, ‘you mustn't look like you want anything. You tease them like it’s your first time, and you shy away from them. But you always give them a small incentive for them to keep trying…’

**• • •**

‘So I heard you’re the one giving lessons, now?’

Aeris groaned. Lately, she'd indulged in buying a few train tickets and spending her free time wandering around the Plate – she’d wait outside the ShinRa building for Zack to escort her around, as the sprawling streets were quite intimidating for a newcomer. She always felt a little guilty about spending her hard-earned money on frivolous things instead of saving up for her goals, but this new opportunity to see the sky was far too tempting to put off. She'd come up early in order to spend hours craning her neck, looking upwards. The people up here probably thought she was some kind of freak but she didn't care. They couldn't possibly understand.

Zack approved of this and always tried to make himself available for her, if only to reinforce their respective alibis. Apparently he'd taken to using her as an excuse, too, so now she'd get these funny, stiff nods from his friends whenever he came out with them and broke away to meet her. Zack had explained to her that they probably pitied her since his affairs never lasted very long. But since they weren't  _really_  together, she was privileged – she would be his longest relationship if there had been some truth about it. And she didn't even have to suffer the hardships of being with him in order to get to such a record.

She'd smiled at the jest – but she sure didn't feel like smiling now. Sure, he could appear all tender with her when they were out in public like this, but his manner of shouting things right across the street that could be wholly misinterpreted was really starting to tick her off. That, and lately he seemed to enjoy pretending to be her boyfriend a little too much.

He threw an arm around her shoulders as he caught up with her, and she immediately wriggled out of his grip.

‘Aw, don't be like that, babe,’ he said jokily.

‘First off, don't call me  _babe_ ,’ she growled. ‘And second, I don't give lessons. It was just that one time. And third- ‘

‘There's a third? How many points are you planning to make?’

‘Oh, I don't know. About as many as the rich girls you're fucking,’ she snapped, and then immediately sobered up – the use of cuss words was extremely rare for her, and when she did use them she had a habit of shocking herself out of being angry.

‘You look like you could use a drink,’ Zack said, squeezing her arm affectionately. ‘Babe.’

‘I told you to stop- ‘

‘Baby baby  _babe,_ ’ he sang, leaning backwards as if he were onstage. ‘Oh,  _baby!_ ’

‘Zack,’ Aeris sighed. ‘Drink. Now.’

‘Alright babe.’

**•**

They ended up at the Condor, famous Upperworld bar that was rumoured to be one of the many bars that the President's son owned.

‘You know this is where the First Class soldiers get their breakfast?’

Aeris started. ‘I thought I'd said discreet and anonymous?’

‘Sure, this place is anonymous,’ Zack said. ‘I mean, apart from Sephiroth and a few other ShinRa executives, nobody's going to pick up on anything you might say here.’

‘Sephiroth?’ Aeris' face positively blanched; she grabbed Zack's arm, pulling him roughly towards her so that she could lower her voice. ‘How could you – what about me? What if he sees me with you?’

‘Why would he care?’

Reason number 102 why they could never really be together: it was impossible to have a normal conversation without wanting to give up and walk away instead of using up energy to explain the obvious.

‘ _Well_ ,’ she started with a sigh, to which Zack barked a laugh.

‘When are you going to stop sighing?’ he said.

"When you stop asking silly questions!’

‘Alright babe. I'll do my best.’

‘ _And_ , when you stop calling me babe.’

‘Yes.’

‘ _Obviously_ , when Sephiroth sees me, he'll associate me with you. And if there ever comes a time where he sees me  _elsewhere…_ ’ She looked up at him and squiggled her eyebrows. He just looked blank, so she ploughed on: ‘Oh for Heaven's sake, Zack! What will he think when he finds out a fellow First-Class is going out with a sex worker? And even worse,’ she glanced down again, ‘what if he comes knocking, and sees our pictures in the catalogue?’

‘Oh, you don't need to worry about that. He's not into that at all.’

She scoffed at that. ‘Oh, because you know all about your fellows and their preferences when it comes to deviant activity?’

‘'Course I do,’ he replied simply. She stared at him in wonder, until suddenly there was a bark –

‘Eat in or takeaway?’

‘Uh.’ Aeris was still caught up with the idea that men actually talk about this stuff with each other, so Zack flashed a knowing smile at the cashier.

‘Right here please, we'll have two cappuccinos and two muffins, nut and cinnamon.’

‘Take a seat. Next?’ the man drawled, and Zack whisked his ‘girlfriend’ towards a table for two without her even having time to protest.

Once they were comfortably seated with their steaming cups of frothy goodness between their hands, Aeris tried a couple of times to ask the question that would relieve her burning curiosity – but she just couldn't bring herself to be so nosy. They weren't her affairs, after all.

‘I know you want to know,’ Zack teased her, and she glowered at him, taking a bite out of her muffin to deter him.

‘Nhah dnt,’ she mumbled as she chewed.

‘You want to know if Sephiroth ever frequents pleasure establishments,’ he said far too loudly, to which she frantically tried to shush him by leaning forwards and ostensibly making a grab at something – his vocal chords, maybe, or rather his face so that she could smash it against the table.

‘It's a known fact,’ came a low, silky voice from the table behind Aeris; she froze, both hands comically gripping her muffin as if it could serve as a weapon. ‘Sephiroth doesn't get pleasure out of anyone but himself.’

Zack barked a laugh again, leaning back on his seat. ‘That's a bit harsh, Genesis.’

‘It's the truth,’ this 'Genesis' person drawled, turning in his sofa to look at them. He and Aeris shared the back of the sofa, so she slid as inconspicuously as she could to the edge of her seat, turning so that her back was against the window and both men were in her view. She practically started when she saw that the alluring redhead who had spoken had his eyes fixed on her.

‘And it's such a shame,’ he purred, a gloved hand coming up to cup the air just under her chin. ‘Depriving himself of such a lovely, delicate world.’

‘Oi,’ Zack said sharply. ‘You touch my girlfriend, and I'll drag you to the training room.’

‘Do you really believe that sounds threatening to me?’ Genesis scoffed.

‘I'll bring Angeal with me,’ Zack added, raising his eyebrows, to which the redhead smiled, dropping his hand.

‘How dull you are,’ Genesis said, then he leaned in a little, gazing at Aeris from under teasing, heavy-lidded eyes. ‘We don't all share Sephiroth's tastes in worldly pleasures. If you're so curious about what the prestigious First Class soldiers are up to, I could very well show you, if you like.’

‘Man, I can't  _believe_ how disrespectful you are – ‘ Zack started, getting up, but Aeris stopped him with a wave of the hand. Drama was the last thing she needed.

‘That won't be necessary,’ she said, giving the stranger a smile as if she found him truly endearing. ‘I don't know any other First Class apart from Sephiroth, so it doesn't really interest me to know of their activities.’

‘You don't know who I am?’ Genesis practically spluttered, eyebrows shooting up indignantly.

‘Sorry, no.’ Aeris cocked her head at him, smiling again. ‘If you'll excuse us?’

Genesis practically glared at them both before returning to his coffee.

‘So. Lessons.’ Zack gave her a broad grin, to which she rolled her eyes, somehow unable to stop herself from reciprocating his grin. Apparently she'd relaxed after having successfully driven off what she saw as an obtrusive stranger; Zack found it rather funny when people brushed off the most important members of ShinRa on the basis that they didn't know who they were actually messing with. He was sure he’d already told her about Genesis, but without seeing any pictures it was difficult to link stories to a face.

‘I told you. It was just that one time.’

‘Sure it was.’ He sipped his cappuccino, speaking up again with froth lining his upper lip. ‘So who was on the receiving end?’

‘She calls herself Promise,’ Aeris said, and when she saw Zack practically spitting out his coffee she frowned. ‘What?’ she insisted when he started laughing. ‘Did I do something wrong? It was a big joke, that's what you're going to tell me, right?’

‘They all fall for it,’ he said to himself, shaking his head, ‘It's amazing! I don't know how she does it, how nobody's ever aware of who she really is. You'd think you girls would communicate amongst yourselves, but no.’

‘Zack,’ Aeris deadpanned, still waiting for him to include her in the conversation. ‘Are you going to tell me what you're on about?’

He grinned at her. ‘Promise is a head hunter. She's an agent from the Upperworld network of private night clubs and entertainment. She likes to take the time to sample her workers instead of having proper job interviews, which takes longer, and is less decisive when you work in this particular branch.’

Aeris' jaw dropped to clatter amongst her cutlery. So much blood had risen to her cheeks that she was sure they were going to melt off any minute now.

‘ _No_!’

‘So now there's going to be the semestrial visit from the procurer, and he'll have complete files about every potential girl he'll be looking to sign up for occasional Upperworld jobs,’ Zack went on. ‘And apparently, that includes you.’

‘What are you grinning about?’ Aeris' heart was thumping away, still bleeding with humiliation about how she'd acted with an actual professional. ‘Am I supposed to be happy about this?’

‘Of course you are!’ he said as if he were stating the obvious. ‘Pay check, Aeris! Prestige! Clean, classy customers!’

‘I don’t know about all that,’ Aeris said. ‘I made a right fool of myself with her.’

‘No you didn’t.’

She glanced at him – he seemed to realize he’d just completely betrayed himself, so he added, ‘I mean, I’m assuming you’re always a consummate professional with anyone who comes through your door.’ But it was too late – she flicked some of her cappuccino froth at him, calling him a perv, and he spent the rest of the coffee break trying to apologize though she would have none of it. 

Behind them, the red-haired Soldier First Class stirred his coffee, his head tilted curiously to the side. 

**• • •**


	3. Chapter 3

**• • •**

Four months in, a particularly cold night at around 3am when the trickle of customers had slowed, Aeris finally passed the test. The girls were having a little reunion of sorts in one of the rooms. She had let one of the younger ones pull her into the room, giggling as though they were part of some conspiracy or underground rebellion. The rooms being small, they were all huddled together on the floor or perched on the bed, lounging around several platters where tea pots sat steaming.

They smiled at her as she came in. The fairy lights that dotted the wall gave off red and green light at even intervals, so that each smooth face was lit with different gradations of colour, some lighter, some darker. A lot of them seemed to be half-out of their costumes, having retired for the night and therefore halfway between their characters and their true selves. Red pooled around their eyes, glinted off of the fake lashes, the sequin-dotted eyelids, the flimsy bones of their corsets, giving a raw quality to the tendons around their knees; green dripped down their chins, pooled in the hollows of their collarbones, gave an eerie taint to their ripped, fluttery garments. Aeris was under the impression that she was stepping into a carnival of sorts, where the clowns were sordid and sexualised, and where time was an antiquated notion.

‘Sit down, new girl!’ they said, and she found a spot between two girls who immediately put their arms around her, kissed her cheeks and laughed at her embarrassment.  
Most of them were talking among themselves in twos and threes; they must have been twelve or so in the tiny room. One girl sitting by the door who was apparently in charge of a tea platter gave Aeris a cup of tea, smiling at her.

‘It's been a while since we did this,’ she said. ‘Boss may give us the impression that he has us under his wing, but we can only really count on each other, everybody knows that.’

‘Who are you?’ Aeris asked her.

‘She's the dullest one here, that's who she is,’ shouted the woman to Aeris' right. ‘Got one man up above who's been pampering her since forever, and therefore doesn't know squat about squat when it comes to difficult living.’

‘Dull! Excuse me? I believe _I'm_ the one who consistently wins best costume. You've never even triedto get your game on,’ said the tea girl.

‘That’s because my game is all _here_ ,’ said the lady to Aeris’ right, tracing circles around her face.

The tea girl rolled her eyes, and turned to Aeris again. ‘Call me Gem, everybody here does.’

‘Is that your professional name?’ Aeris asked shyly.

‘It's Hegemony in full,’ said the lady to her right, squeezing the poor girl against her. ‘Means authority, supreme leadership. Pretty clever if you ask me; little Gem wanted to appeal to the masochistic kind, so that she’d have less chances of getting slapped around like the rest of us. But if you ask me she only succeeded in landing herself with a right nutter.’

The masochistic kind. Aeris’ jaw dropped a bit as she looked at Gem. She was the infamous domme! Without the make-up and rubber she looked so bizarre and naked, like a cat without fur. Gem apparently noticed how the realization dawned on Aeris’ face, because she sat up a little straighter and framed her face with both hands, putting it on display.

‘I know, I know. Not a lot of people believe I actually have a face under the layer cake make-up.’

‘Now you see why she has to make so much effort.’

‘ _That_ ,’ Gem said with an exasperated smile at the rude woman, ‘is Harmony. Don't ever tell her anything about yourself.’

‘I'll just guess it anyway,’ Harmony scoffed. ‘Seeing as we somehow always get to know each other better than our own mothers.’

The flowergirl squinted at them both as they continued to bicker at each other, trying to make out the colour of their hair and their actual faces in the garish lights. Gem was clearly the most stunning of the two, most of her face being modified; she had shaved off her eyebrows, and her eyes seemed almost white; her mouth was delicately curved, and she wore two metal loops in her lower lip. Aeris knew she’d shaved both sides of her skull, as she usually wore her hair up in fluffy Mohawks or gelled around fake chignons and the like, but tonight it was up in a ponytail, baring her skull and giving her an edgy androgynous look. She was wearing an oversized checkered shirt over her stockings – it was certainly a change from the latex boudoir clothes that Aeris was used to seeing her in. Turning her head a little, Aeris rested her eyes on Harmony who was decidedly plainer; long curls of light hair swept down her generous bosom, and her face held a classic sort of beauty; round, with almond-shaped eyes and pulpous lips. They each held the kind of charisma that made Aeris feel like she was as far as she ever could be from proper womanhood.

‘How are you finding the job?’ Gem asked her as she poured more tea into the array of small ceramic cups next to her. ‘A lot of us have noticed the efforts you’ve been making, you know. It’s nice to see, after the terrible newbies we’ve had recently.’

Aeris smiled, blushing. She knew there had been some kind of test to pass but she hadn’t been aware of any scrutiny. It was enormously flattering, to be told by a veteran worker who was three times the woman she could ever be, that she was doing a good job. ‘I’m doing OK, yeah,’ she stammered.

‘God, the two girls who came to work last month,’ Harmony pitched in, raising her eyebrows. Gem barked a laugh.

‘Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee, coming in here thinking they were better than everybody,’ Gem said. ‘If one more girl comes in here acting like it’s the biggest tragedy in their lives to associate with us and do our job, I will swoop in like the god mother nobody asked for and kick their arse right into the wastelands.’

‘Hey, a lot of these girls don’t have a choice,’ Harmony reminded her. ‘Don’t be too harsh.’

‘I wouldn’t be harsh if they didn’t get completely plastered and give discounts so that the whole system gets screwed up for the rest of us,’ Gem growled.

Aeris remembered the girls in question – she’d overheard them offering threesomes for the same price as a regular hour, which probably had convinced customers to switch bookings for the night. She sipped her tea, keeping quiet – she had probably made a few mistakes in the first months, too. She hoped she hadn’t been criticized so vehemently for them, though.

After some more reminiscing on bad newbies, Gem turned back to her.

‘What’s your name, by the way?’

Aeris stared. ‘You want my real name, or - ?’

‘No, no, no. Nobody knows your real name here,’ Gem told her. ‘And make sure it stays that way.’

‘Last time somebody insisted on telling us her real name,’ started the woman at Aeris' left, ‘a client ended up overhearing us using it in the bar – and when that happens your career essentially ruins your life. He ended up knowing where she lived, who she associated with. He even showed up at her day job.’

‘You talking about Dany?’ Harmony inquired, leaning over so that her bosom pressed against Aeris' side.

‘Yeah,’ the woman on her left said. ‘Poor girl. Charming and all, she was. She had to quit everything and move to a different sector.’

‘She managed to get away from it all, though,’ Gem said. ‘Unlike Trish.’

The two other girls shook their heads. ‘Oh, Trish,’ Harmony said. Then she smiled, as though remembering fond memories.

‘What happened to her?’ Aeris asked timidly.

‘She got bought by this sleazer who’d been serving out money in ladles,’ Gem said. ‘The kind of guy that Boss just spreads his legs for, you know. Then once she was up there, he revealed that he’d known who she was and who her family was all this time. Blackmailed her into doing things just to keep the situation he’d built for her. She got mixed in with Upperworld traffic about, what, a year ago?’

‘Still haven’t heard from her,’ Harmony said.

‘What do you mean… traffic?’ Aeris asked.

‘Oh, sweetie,’ the woman on her left said with a condescending smile. ‘What on the Planet are you doing in here with such an innocent mind?’

‘That's Vale,’ Gem broke in. ‘She was talking about the slave traffic up above. You know, Boss must be like the only pimp in this city who cares as much about freeing his workers as he does about the money they make him. Up above, it’s either classy brothels who can fire you for no reason, or men who promise you the stars if you’ll just do all this work for them without ever seeing the money.’

‘And the laws surrounding our job are so ridiculous that they hardly help anyone,’ Harmony added. ‘If you get blackmailed into working for an illegal organisation, and the peacekeepers find you out – you’re branded as co-conspirator, and punished even though you’re technically the victim.’

Vale was nodding as Harmony talked. She had a soft, girlish air about her; her hair seemed to be white, flowing straight down to her shoulderblades. ‘Boss does his best to help us out, but the best thing to do once you’ve gained access to the plate is finding people who can do more thorough background checks on your regulars – you’ve got to believe they’re all bastards before you allow yourself to trust them.’

‘Bastards!’ Gem agreed, holding up her tea cup before shooting it as if it was alcohol.

‘Does it happen that often? I mean, girls getting mixed up in that sort of thing?’ Aeris asked them, tea cup trembling slightly between her hands. She was starting to wish she'd just stayed in her room and minded her own business, nursing her illusions a little longer.

‘Not with Bee girls, at least. We take care of our own,’ Gem said. ‘If I’m honest, the whole Trish situation could’ve been avoided if she hadn’t kept it to herself until it was too late. Obviously she was scared, but Boss could’ve helped her. _We_ could’ve helped her.’

‘Yeah,’ Vale said. ’I don’t think she knew that buying isn’t the only option to get out of here. Boss makes it sound like it’s the big gateway, but to be honest? He just says that because of the money it makes him. You can totally do it by yourself, even if it’s harder to establish yourself up there without help.’

Gem frowned. ‘He does follow the buying process really closely though. You shouldn’t have to dread it – it should be something to look forward to as long as you do everything to stay safe.’

Harmony snorted. ‘Yeah, I hope I'm still alive the day your precious First Class decides to buy you. You're safe for the moment, rotting down here and being at his beck and call. How long has it been now? Ten months?’

‘You've got a First Class client? As in the SOLDIER First Class?’ Aeris gaped as Gem reached over to give Harmony a big prod in the boob.

‘Shut up. At least I  _have_  a regular,’ she growled.

‘So what? I'd rather have a more sporadic clientele than a guy calling me  _mistress_ and asking me to crush small mammals with stilettos as foreplay,’ Harmony laughed.

‘You really have no idea what masochism is about,’ Gem sniffed. ‘There's a whole psychological depth to it. And – ah, fuck it, I've been over this a thousand times.’

Harmony opened her arms in mock-defeat. ‘You know, I don't really care anyway - I prefer my men to have a shred of self-worth, thanks very much.’

‘Who is it?’ Aeris asked, bursting with curiosity.

‘Can't ruin the surprise,’ Gem smiled at her mischievously. ‘But maybe you'll see him if you get picked for Upperworld work at next inspection day.’

‘But what's it  _like_?’ Aeris checked herself; she was supposed to be scared of being recognized if any of the First Class saw her, not insanely curious about it all. ‘I mean, how did you manage to get him as a regular? I thought First Class didn't indulge in this sort of thing.’

‘Oh, they indulge in a lot of things,’ Gem said with a conspiratorial wink. ‘You've just got to catch their eye, guess what they want. They all have a weakness, something they're missing.’

‘Except Sephiroth,’ Vale suddenly piped up.

‘Fuck knows what he wants,’ Harmony added, raising her eyebrows.

‘He attends events that include us?’ This was almost too much information for Aeris to swallow.

‘ _If_  you get picked,’ Gem reminded her.

‘Yeah, he attends military ceremonies and high society dinners and the like.’ Harmony sipped her tea in between phrases. ‘Last time I saw him, we were the main attraction at a private dinner; we basically sat in their laps and served them drinks while they talked politics. Dirty buggers.’

Gem was laughing. ‘Oh yeah, I remember that. It was quite a legendary night, and in your standards that's saying quite a lot, isn't it darling?’

She ducked playfully as Harmony swatted at her. Aeris still couldn't tell if this was a game between them or if they really hated each other. ‘If Harmony knows anything about the great General's frigidity, it's because she's always – ‘ Swat, duck. ‘ – the first – ‘ Punch, duck. ‘- to throw herself at him and come on, stop it!’

‘A woman's got to take her chances,’ Harmony snarled at her. ‘It's easy to give yourself the image of a dominatrix, since there's always gonna be a simpering little sod that'll be searching for that kind of thing. But when you choose not to give any particular image – well, it's a much harder game.’

‘Yeah well, everybody knows the first rule of that game is to  _not_  talk politics,’ Gem said, still grinning doggishly at Harmony. ‘You should've seen it, it was beautiful. There she is, a dressed up hooker from down below, standing in her expensive jewellery on the balcony while the General goes for a cigarette; he's looking at her coolly, you know, like he's assessing the danger of the situation, and she's smiling at him as if she knows exactly what he wants. We're all staring at her of course – like we always do whenever somebody manages to get the General's attention. And the idiot actually starts asking how the dinner's going, and if they're approaching the problem of equal salaries within the upper crust job market!’

‘It was a fair question,’ Harmony said. ‘You have to follow this stuff if you’re heading for a career up above.’

‘I'll just leave you to imagine the look on Sephiroth's face. A _Bee girl_ from down below, talking about equal salaries. I mean come on, that's just too good.’

‘You’re an idiot, Gem.’

‘Oh, please. How can we talk about equal salaries when men give us a year’s worth of pay for half an hour? It’s a joke.’

‘Look at you, floating on your little S&M cloud, no idea whatsoever about how selective this work can get,' Harmony ranted. 'There’s inequality everywhere. Black girls versus white? Black girls have to put in more work to get the same kind of attention and pay that white girls do. Women versus men? Ditto. Should I even get into the ridiculous male host clubs up above? They get so much money just for _serving champagne_ and maybe giving a few hugs and kisses, and then they lord their status over us like, oh, I’m a _host_ , not a _hooker_. I mean where’s the logic?’

 ‘I know!’ Gem said. ‘It’s like, you’re still serving a sexual fantasy, darling. Just because your clothes stay on doesn’t mean your clients aren’t looking right through them.’

‘Just – just to go back to the story,’ Aeris stammered, trying to wedge a word in, ‘how _did_ Sephiroth react, exactly?’ She was having difficulty picturing the situation since she didn't really know what Sephiroth looked like; the only times she'd seen him was in gritty, pixelated images on the TV.

‘Well, he looked at her like she was from a completely different planet – ‘

‘He did not,’ Harmony cut through sharply. ‘He took my question into consideration.’

‘And then he backed away slowly.’

‘He didn't just take off like that!’ Harmony roared. ‘He told me that I was right to be interested, because the problem touched every kind of career, even the most menial ones.’

‘In conclusion,’ Gem said with a theatrical wave of the arms. ‘He is  _also_  a crumby little bastard.’

‘Did you just call Sephiroth a crumby little bastard?’ Harmony looked at her with wide eyes. ‘Why? He was really polite.’

‘He said you had a shitty career!’

‘Prostitution  _is_  a shitty career, last time I looked.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see,’ Gem said. ‘You think prostitution is shitty? You only get out of it what you put in, darling. Don’t you go spitting on all of us just because you can’t pull your weight.’

‘You are _such_ a bitch,’ Harmony chortled. They were definitely used to these larger-than-life arguments.

‘Anyway, he just went and shat on all of us, and you thought he was being  _polite_. It's a known fact that he couldn't care less for sex workers and our cause. Come on, Harmony, get over him.’

‘There's nothing to  _get over_ ,’ Harmony shot back. ‘That was the only time I ever went after him. Vale's the one who's got a thing for him.’

‘Vale's certainly not the only one,’ Gem smiled cheekily, overrunning Vale's weak "Hey!" of protest.

‘Still, I didn't even imagine that girls from the Bee could possibly reach him and his entourage,’ Aeris spoke up in order to come in the way of another fight; she was starting to feel comfortable enough to express herself a little more freely, what with the effusive manners of her companions.

‘Yeah, it might seem pretty high on the social ladder to you, but…’ Harmony shot a steely glance at Gem, ‘…the higher you go, the more twisted they are.’

‘A bit too intellectual for you, Harmony?’ the woman retorted, but she was interrupted by the door opening – a mane of dark hair framed the surprised face of Zack Fair as he peeked in. Aeris started as the women started chucking pillows at him, crying out that this was a private tea party and for him to bugger off immediately.

‘Ok, ok,’ he was laughing as he nursed his battered face, stepping into the room. ‘Just a heads up, it's 4:30, home time.’

He looked down at Aeris with a grin as the women started getting up.

‘What are you doing in this nest of vipers?’ He stepped in to help her up. ‘They'll spoil you if you listen to them too much.’

‘And you aren't a bad influence at all,’ Aeris chided him, letting him take her under one arm and lead her out into the corridor amidst the noisy bustle.

‘Nope,’ he said, looking down at her fondly. ‘In fact, I'm going to take you to your mother's right now.’

‘Oh, you're so good to me,’ Aeris railed him, rolling her eyes.

‘See? Sarcasm. Bad vibes.’

The flowergirl smiled to herself, wriggling out from under his arm and holding her head up, feeling an unusual surge of feminism blossoming in her.

‘Let's go then.’

**• • •**

You're unbelievable, you know that?

The fact that you're working here at all still surprises me. I'll open my door when my bell rings, prepared to go fetch my client, and you'll be there in the corridor talking with one or two other girls, one foot hooked behind your knee, voluptuous forms only barely hinted at under the light tumble of pastel clothes. And once again the simple fact that you can be associated to the notion of sexuality will completely amaze me. I always thought you were practically asexual, that the space between your legs was for perfunctory uses only. If I was so delighted by your company in these past years, it was precisely because every woman that frequents us Soldiers is mainly attracted by the buff quality of our bodies, most of the time caring nothing for our intellects – it's even a joke among them, to be with a Soldier for their personalities. And you… you possessed more femininity than all of them put together – and you were never as ridiculously lustful as them, you never seemed to look at men and see only physical opportunities like them. It was a relief of sorts, to know there was no basis upon whose evolution our friendship could crumble; to know you didn't want anything from me except my company.

So you can imagine my wonder as I sit by your door, hearing the sounds of ecstasy that you manage to extract from your current client – I never seem to hear you though. Sometimes there are small, strangled cries, but you repress them as soon as they emerge. It's frustrating, your silence – I know exactly how your clients feel as they try everything to make you utter a single sound. How flattering it is when you finally yield even the smallest syllable of content.

I know you look through my keyhole sometimes. I'm not going to apologize for doing the same.

Tonight he's particularly pleasing to the eye; longish blond hair, muscular build. I watch him manipulating you roughly, hands clutching your hips; you're on your hands and knees, head down, taking each thrust without complaint. His sweat-slick hands slip down your back as he leans over you. Your face is scrunched in a frown, ponytail flowing down one shoulder and curling on the mattress, hair sticking to your face. You seem to close your eyes every time he hits deep. He’s breathing so heavily that even I'm starting to feel aroused by the sound of his pleasure – but you, you stay stone cold silent as you always do. I stare at how his glutes contract rhythmically, how fast he’s getting – still, you only pant, eyes flickering up when he throws his head back. Then he groans with satisfaction, bucking his hips against you as he comes, and you look over your shoulder with a smile and a moan, rewarding him with your own voice at last.

I'm distracted by a group of girls scuttling down the corridor; one of them slaps me across the back of my head, calling me a pervert, so I look up at them with a grin. The selection of women here is so thorough in its requirements of beauty and general features that it's the best place to be if you want to get to know beautiful people – though I have to say, you're the only one with such girlish features. I look again – and quickly move away as the man starts dressing. It wouldn't do to be caught looking, especially by the client himself.

When all's taken care of you come back from the office, walking slowly down the corridor with your eyes downcast. You’re wearing the usual white stockings, flowery lingerie and a sheer, glittery night robe that you close around yourself when there are no clients around.  As it’s nearing home time, I'm waiting for you with an arm leaning against your closed door. You look up and immediately blush, a smile of embarrassment curling on your lips.

‘Let me put some clothes on before you talk to me,’ you say. The dark smudges under your eyes tell of your exhaustion, but I can’t help teasing you.

‘Like I haven’t seen you parading around like that all night,’ I say. You look me up at down – I’m still wearing leather pants and a leather collar with a long chain leash hanging down my front, requirements for my last booking.

‘You should change, too,’ you say. ‘Unless you want Elmyra to think I’m dating a fetish lord.’

I laugh, and move out of your way. We agree to meet outside, and I head off to change. Once I’ve said goodbye to the girls and Boss, I venture outside – the bouncers are dealing with a few drunkards, so you’re a few paces away, at a safe distance. You’re all wrapped up in wool and denim, hair up in a scruffy bun, nose buried in your scarf. You hold out a hand, and I step into the fantasy, taking it and walking next to you. The night-time fantasy is always quieter, so much more intimate than the day-time one. I can’t help it – these nights, the ones where I sleep at your house, are my favourite moment of the week. I don’t say a word about it to you, because I don’t want to betray your trust. But _Gaia_ , I need this.

We exchange stories about our clients; you’re always fascinated by my female clients, as you haven’t had one yet (apart from Promise, but we both agreed that she doesn’t count). When we get to Elmyra’s, I watch you fumbling for your keys, and for a moment it’s so nice to pretend that this is our house, that we’re just a normal couple coming home after a night’s work. Elmyra’s already up, as she likes to be up before the artificial daylight comes on – she’s prepared some juice and pieces of marzipan pie for us, and we sit down at the kitchen table, you letting me make up a date night for us. Elmyra always loves to hear about our fictional ‘Plate dates’ – she’s very rarely been up there, so I lay on the details for her about restaurants and clubs I’ve been to with Angeal and the Second class boys. She doesn’t seem to mind that we supposedly spend the entire nights out. She simply accepts that it’s all the free time I have to spare. I can still see how surprised she is that you would’ve ‘picked’ me, the boy from your childhood that nobody really saw as serious boyfriend material – I wonder if she suspects that something isn’t quite right. But even if she does, she shows herself to be a gracious host as always; she ushers us upstairs, refusing to let us do the dishes. I follow you up to you room.

My throat is tight as you open the door. You throw your bag in a corner and flump onto the bed, drawing all the pillows towards you. I grin as I watch you furrowing shamelessly. There are bouquets all over the room, and the familiar scent of flowers envelops me – it’s the one you wear in your hair all the time. Even as we’re brushing shoulders in the Bee corridors, that scent always brings me right back here to these moments. You, curled up with your fists under your chin, lips parted as you fall into a dream. You trust me so much in those moments, don’t you? I bet you have no idea how hard it is, to be trusted that much.

I close the door behind me, and the _click_ seems to seal our bubble of intimacy. Usually, our bed time ritual would be to continue our earlier conversation in whispers, get into our pjs, and maybe rock the bed and laugh at the different sex rhythms we make. This time, you seem too dead for any of that.   

‘Tired?’ I say companionably.

You only groan, arms covering your face. I sit by you. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make a move – to somehow express how I’ve been feeling. And now – now it seems so much simpler to just express it through touch.

I take the plunge. ‘You want a massage?’

You wait a moment. Then you roll over onto your belly, feet sticking from the edge of the bed.

‘Yrhm,’ you grumble into the pillows.

Really? It’s that easy? Oh man. I put my things on the floor and sit next to you on the bed. I watch with a dry throat as I sweep your top layers up, first the jumper, then the oversized T-shirt that you filched from my wardrobe. You hold your arms out for me to pull them off, then bring them back down to pillow your head. You’ve just got a cotton vest top on. No bra.

I try to think of wailing babies and sliced body parts as I straddle you. I ease down onto the backs of your thighs, feeling the heat radiating from your body between my legs – guts! Spilling guts and body parts! – and place my palms lightly on the small of your back. I can't help seeing your client's hands in this exact place, and thinking about what position you were in when he had them there – oh, man. My thumbs deepen their pressure on either side of your spine just at your waist and you groan with satisfaction. Ah! So you can be expressive. But, as I climb up between your shoulder blades, you practically cry out in delight – your skin is so soft and malleable… oh man, oh man!

I brush stray hairs away from your nape, trying to focus so I don’t just shamelessly grind on you. There are bruises around your shoulders, and your pale skin is otherwise dotted with moles.

‘What happened here?’ I murmur.

‘Oh, just a client gripping me really hard. You know I bruise easily.’

‘What were you doing to him for him to grip that hard?’

‘Don’t think I’m going to detail it for you,’ you say, grinning. I press harder in retaliation, and you groan again.

‘Elmyra’s going to think there’s a bear in the room if you keep doing that,’ I say. Shit, shit, I sound so choked and turned on, there’s no way you haven’t noticed it. I bite my lip. If I could only shut my _fucking mouth –_

‘I can't help it, it feels lovely.’

‘I can see that. Your muscles are rock hard.’ And they're not the only – no, Zack. Concentrate.

I go up to your shoulders again, pressing and kneading your flesh, and you tense and relax under my fingers.

‘Go up to my neck,’ you say, voice still muffled by your arms. ‘On either side of my spine as you've been doing.’

‘Yes, ma'am.’ I comply – and then you give such a wanton moan that this time I can't help my erection. I shift so that it doesn't press into your butt, fighting against the urge to reverse the act. You're still groaning as I continue down your shoulders, softer this time.

‘Stop it,’ I bite out.

‘Stop what?’

‘Groaning like that. I thought your technique was cold silence.’

‘Why are you talking about technique?’ you say. ‘I'm not doing anything. My back's just really sore, and you feel wonderful.’

‘Aeris.’ I smile at your hundredth double-meaning. ‘You of all people should understand what effect you can have on a man even if it's involuntary.’

’Oh, I see,’ you sigh lazily. ‘Well, control yourself then. You know I won't allow you to touch me.’

‘But I am touching you.’

‘You know what I mean,’ you say, as if controlling myself was the easiest thing in the world; as if you couldn't care less about the fact that I want to fuck you senseless right this minute, because I can 'control myself' anyway.

Do you know how much torture it is to be trusted so much? You think I'm in the same practical state of mind as you but I don't even know what I think any more. I could tell myself it's only lust, but even if it is lust, it's so consuming that I can hardly hold it back – and now… you're warm and trusting and relaxed between my legs, smiling with benign satisfaction, and I find myself looking down at the darkness between your thighs.

I remember every single detail of how it feels to be inside you. I want to say it – it’s on the tip of my tongue, and as I sit there staring down at your plump white cheeks I decide words aren’t the right way to do it. So I roll you over onto your back.

It happens too quickly for you to fight me. You barely have the time to ask what I’m doing before I’m leaning down breathlessly and kissing your neck.

‘Zack?’ you stammer. Your voice is loud. Scared or angry, I can’t tell. I don’t care. For a blissful moment, I don’t care.

I kiss you. You taste like apple juice and marzipan and your hands are on my shoulders, not knowing whether to push or pull.

You decide on pushing, and you break away. I move back. My cock is throbbing so fucking much, I feel like it’s going to burst.

You don’t say anything; you just stare at me, frowning, like you want to say something.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘What do you mean, _what_?’ you burst out. ‘Why are you kissing me all of a sudden?’

My heart’s sinking. ‘It’s not so unusual for me to kiss you, is it?’

‘You and I both know it’s just a performance when we do it in public. That’s all it is. This physical intimacy stuff, it’s for the sake of other people.’

 ‘It wasn’t always,’ I mutter.

You look up at me, your expression indecipherable.

‘We only did that because it was necessary.’

‘But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?’

You frown. ‘That’s not fair.’

You're so fucking irresistible even when you protest. Now that I've crossed the boundary I can't help wanting to know what could happen if I go just a little further – pushing just a little more against the limits of our bond. You _must_ want this too, at least on some level. You can't always be so invulnerable to my approach.

I kiss you again, tongue darting into your mouth. You’re hot and sweet and I can't control myself any more – I don't even hear your moan of protest as I grab your wrists and slam them into the mattress. I press the entire length of my body against you, sighing in satisfaction as my swollen cock presses against your belly.

You're mute with rage, I can tell – but there's fear in your face too, since I'm guessing you're not stupid enough to believe you could overcome me if I do try anything. It almost hurts me to see you afraid of me, but at the same time it's so  _exciting_.

‘When are you going to stop pretending that there's nothing but friendship between us?’ I mutter against your mouth. ‘You play coy and then you expect me to just contain myself?’

‘Yes!’ you exclaim, as if it's totally obvious. I look at you; your eyes are glittering, there are stray hairs sticking to your mouth. You look so feral that I’m sure all hell would’ve broken loose if we didn’t have to be quiet for Elmyra’s sake. ‘Let me go. Right now.’

You don't even know how lovely you look in all that confusion of anger and humiliation. I smile at you.

‘What if I say no?’

‘Zack, for the love of- ‘

I swallow your protest in a violent kiss, tasting you, biting down on the fleshy bulge of your lower lip – and then WHAM, pain, PAIN between my legs – oh sweet Shiva – I've rolled over and my knees have hit the floor, hands clenched between my legs. You're looking down at me with concern shining in your eyes – you crawl over to the edge of the bed.

‘Oh, Zack.’ Your voice is tremulous with worry, and yeah, you should be worrying - it'll be a miracle if you haven't broken me in two - oh man, oh it HURTS it hurts! ‘Are you OK? Did I hit too hard? I’m so sorry, Zack – ’

‘No you’re not,’ I hiss against the pain, shrugging off the pressure of your hand as you try to comfort me.

‘You know the limits,’ you say pleadingly, like you don't want me to be mad. ‘You brought this on yourself.’ You think I'm not going to be mad? You think I'm not mad right now? I am! I'm mad with pain – I roll over onto my back, sucking in air.

‘You bitch,’ is all I can squeeze out.

I can almost feel the hurt look you give me; and I know this is all my fault, but still. You could've been gentler about it. You get up from my side in a rustle of light cloth, grab a few pillows, and then you just leave the room – you leave me there, writhing on the floor, all dignity forgotten.

Well, that went well.

**• • •**

‘Zack?’

The Second Class was limping as he came into the training room. He saluted his mentor as the First Class simulation disintegrated, pixels flowing down the walls in virtual cascades. Sephiroth and Genesis were at the back of the room, Genesis panting as he went over to sit on one of the crates by the wall, Sephiroth looking over at Zack inquiringly as he straightened his trench coat with his free hand.

‘You're limping,’ Angeal stated rather uselessly.

‘Morning, sir,’ Zack said. ‘I think I might skip this morning's session, if you don't mind.’

"What is this? What happened?"

"It's the new girlfriend, isn't it?" Genesis laughed, not even glancing over at them from where he sat. ‘I met her the other day, and honestly, I think she might be too much for him to handle.’

‘I've always wondered why they all bother to endure Mako enhancement, if none of them can handle a simple girl,’ Sephiroth sighed.

‘Depends which regions actually receive the enhancement,’ Genesis said.

Sephiroth tutted. ‘Always so low.’

‘It has nothing to do with Aeris,’ Zack growled at them.

" _Pride is lost,"_  Genesis quoted playfully. " _Wings stripped away, the end is nigh."_

"It has nothing to do with her!" Zack shouted, having no patience for this. He turned to Angeal and lowered his voice. "Can I have my morning? I'll make it up to you."

Just as Angeal was smiling threateningly at how he'd find ways for his pupil to make it up to him, Sephiroth started walking towards them, trailing his blade behind him regally.

"A man who dreams of making First Class never hides behind physical impediments," he started gravely. He advanced towards the black-haired pair. "The concentration needed to set aside the pain is precisely what gives you strength during battle."

"But, sir - "

The General swept his gaze up from the ground quite suddenly, piercing the Second Class through and through with pale, stern eyes.

"Do not frequent women if it distracts you from your goal," he said. Then he lifted his blade, other arm coming up to balance the weight.

"He's right," Genesis said. "I mean, who needs women? They just get in the way, don't they? No fun to be had there. Just  _impediments_."

Zack didn't have the time to respond – there was a surreal hiss of metal, silver slashing through the air, and he only just had the time to whip his sword from his back and block the blow – he crashed down onto one knee with the weight of the blow, grinding his teeth at the effort and the pain that was throbbing dully around his stomach and crotch. Angeal had stepped back to give the pair some room though he didn't approve of Sephiroth approaching his pupil, as always; but Zack did need a lesson in commitment.

The silver-haired man leaned over his adversary, pushing down on the man's sword. Sparks sputtered from the screeching contact.

"Creating your own liability is the mark of a weak man," he baritoned, before snaking the thin blade around Zack's so that it was underneath the blade rather than on top of it - with a sudden upward twitch, Zack's sword was pulled from his hands and thrown spinning into the air as if it were a mere stick.

Genesis laughed at how easily he'd been unarmed. Feeling his cheeks grow hot with humiliation, Zack let his hands drop to his knee, looking up at Sephiroth from his wholly submissive stance.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said through gritted teeth. "Everyone is entitled to one or two bad days, right?"

"If I were your mentor I'd have you castrated," the man responded, lifting an eyebrow in something like mild disgust; and Genesis applauded him from behind them.

"Oh, how  _rich_ ," the redhead laughed as Angeal came to help his pupil up, "Watch out, Zack. Our friend can be very bitter about having no functional sexuality. It's just jealousy, really."

Zack could've sworn he saw the General smile to himself, then – but before he could retort, Angeal had taken his arm and was dragging him towards the exit, fuming with indignation at his pupil's behaviour.

"Come on," the man growled as Zack tried to get back on his feet rather than let himself be dragged like an old sandbag.

"Angeal!" Genesis' high voice called after them, "You still haven't said - will you be going to the Weapon's Department reunion tonight then, or won't you?"

"I don't think so, Genesis," Angeal replied as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"Suit yourself. Perhaps it'd make good training for your pupil," the redhead went on. "There'll be  _women_."

"Then bring Sephiroth with you," Angeal retorted. "Perhaps he needs a clearer idea on how dangerous women can be before admonishing the first man who shows weakness."

"For the last time, _it wasn't Aeris_!"

"Sure it wasn't," Genesis sneered after them. "I'll be at the Condor at noon, if ever you want to bring her along so I can congratulate her on her skill at handling ill-mannered pups."

Zack let out a feral yell of pure frustration. " _Fuck you_ , Genesis! _"_

"Zack." Angeal was ready to stick each of their heads in a bucket and have Scarlet try the latest robotic machinery on them. "Just… shut up and follow me."

**• • •**

"Inspection day!"

The women were lined up in three rows from wall to wall in the intro room, the procurer looking them up and down as he made his way through the sparkling, half-naked bodies.

Aeris couldn't help trembling as she stood amidst her own row, clad in a transparent dress with embroidered golden flowers coming to cover all the appropriate places. The most well-off had shared their gifts with the new girls who hadn't yet had any contact with the Upperworld; her garment was Vale's, and it itched rather badly around her chest.

If any of them were picked, they would have to start working that very night. The flowergirl still couldn't get her head around whether or not she actually wanted that kind of attention; she knew she needed to be earning more money if she wanted to make all of this cost-effective. But then again… she wouldn't be wearing masks when she was up there. She'd be at everyone's mercy.

The procurer would stop before the girls, opening his portfolio and checking them out coolly, dropping a cold "You" when he picked them out for his Upperworld contracts. The simple process seemed so alien to her like there was this strange web of authorities that suddenly held sway over her sex life. She couldn't believe she was actually here, that she had actually chosen this. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Her willpower was vacillating inside of her again, making her want to clutch at her sides so that it wouldn't seep out between her ribs and escape.

She closed her eyes.  _This is so stupid. What am I doing!_

The squeak of lacquered heels was coming closer – and then just as she was about to open her mouth to excuse herself, somehow get out of this, somehow find another solution – he stopped right in front of her.

She opened her eyes and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

"You," he said.

**• • •**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Border of Taboo_ **

**4**

****• • •** **

There was a mist of glitter and perfume in the changing rooms. Translucent fabric caressed skin; heels extended like flower stems, long and thin, embracing many a rounded heel. A woman in red would come in, select a girl, take her away to show her the weapon she’d be presenting, then come back to pick another one. All the Bee girls were chattering about their experiences with scavenged weaponry you’d find down in the slums – Aeris listened fearfully, hoping there’d be melee weapons of some kind, because she’d never held a gun in her life. Then the woman in red had come to get her, asked what she was most comfortable with. Aeris had mentioned proficiency with staffs – and the woman had shown her three beautiful specimens, each taller than the other. Aeris had picked one, then discussed how the presentation would go as the woman steered her back to the changing rooms.

It was a simple enough concept. Each woman would have to march down the catwalk with the latest gimmick of military technology clutched between her hands. The brutality that the weapon suggested would be lost in multicoloured nebulae of cloth and jewels as the woman posed and flirted with the crowd. Fifteen minutes of stage presence per girl, then back to the changing rooms. Simple.

There was one problem though; Aeris had never worn 8-inch platform heels.

Well, then again she could keep going in the same vein if feeling utterly incapable was her goal; she had never strutted around half-naked in a private Upperworld conference room gripping weapons worth a thousand times her own person, either. But, she could do that. Yeah. No immediate danger would come from that. However, the thought of being in constant danger of breaking her ankles or having her kneecaps pop right out of her legs was really starting to make her panic.

‘Darling,’ Gem had tried to comfort her as they got ready in the adjoining room. ‘It's easy to get used to, you'll see. After the first few steps…’

‘I can't wear these, I just  _can't_ ,’ Aeris was saying, practically hysterical with panic as she angled her feet in her shoes; the platforms were transparent, and the shoe itself held her foot and leg in transparent, nylon-like fabric encrusted with rhinestone azaleas that coiled right up to her thighs. There were small rhinestone straps hidden in the patterns to secure her feet, but still! It was ridiculous!

‘I'll fall face-first into them.’ If she was lucky; better a soft, squishy diplomat than her neck against the back of a chair.

‘I bet they'll like that,’ Harmony grinned at her, warming up her ankles in her equally monstrous heels. Gem's were startlingly black as they glittered and crawled up her legs, making the sight even more garish; then again her entire outfit was leather and dark, translucent chiffon. It seemed like no stylist could resist matching her attire to her face; the guns would only be a welcome addition.

‘Come on, get up here and I'll show you,’ she said, getting up from where she'd been crouching next to Aeris and positively towering over her, gloved hand outstretched.

‘Oh, Gaia.’ For the first time in her life, Aeris really,  _heartily_  despised being a woman.

**• • •**

‘Scarlet's hosting.’

‘So I heard.’

‘Yeah, this is bound to be good.’

Sephiroth wasn't even frowning – it was beyond that. His face had withdrawn into a sort of wary indifference that meant if anything displeasing crossed his path, he would immediately find a means to  _annihilate_  it with any environing object. Genesis gave a laugh as he noticed the materia-ridden gauntlet hiding under Sephiroth’s shirt sleeve as they waited in the elevator. He reached out for it, holding Sephiroth’s wrist up.

‘Dear me. Must I remind you that it’s illegal to set the showgirls on fire if they displease you?’

‘I wasn’t necessarily thinking of the hookers when I put that on,’ Sephiroth snapped, breaking out of Genesis’ grip impatiently. ‘Anything that Scarlet hosts usually ends up about as friendly as a Delta camp post-napalm drink-your-brains-out event.’

Genesis snorted. ‘You’re giving her a little too much credit. Delta camp was another planet entirely.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But you weren’t there at the party she hosted down in the slums last summer, were you? Celebrating the tenth birthday of Mako Reactor 5?’

‘Oh, don’t remind me,’ Genesis sighed. ‘I’m _still_ hearing stories about that one.’

‘Case in point. Back-up materia might be useful.’

‘You know, this place _is_ upper echelon – there are more than enough security guards around here for you to relax.’

‘I prefer handling my own security.’

‘So you’re going to be sitting there like a tight-arsed Soldier grunt, while everyone else is enjoying gorgeous women wearing only weapons and ropes of ammo.’ Genesis brought up his hands in a theatrical show of despair. ‘All this physical potential, gone to waste.’

The look on the General's face clearly spelled out distress at the fact that this building had so many damn stories.

‘Always to the women with you. I understand they'll be serving purely ornamental purposes, so why you should make the dinner all about them is beyond me. Heidegger and Scarlet’s band of professional drinkers are the main reasons for my reluctance.’

‘Oh, but it goes  _far_ beyond ornamental purposes, my friend,’ Genesis laughed, and he had to summon a great deal of humour to be able to withstand the withering,  _blazing_  look the General gave him.

‘Genesis, if you don’t shut up about those women, I _will_ resort to Firaga. And not just on them.’

Genesis shook his hands, laughing, though Sephiroth’s expression was a little frightening.

‘I believe you, I believe you.’

Thankfully, the _ding_ of the elevator signaled their arrival, interrupting Sephiroth’s death wishes. Genesis ushered his fuming friend out into the corridor and to the double doors.

**•**

The music was unbelievably loud for a 'work reunion', but most of the participants knew that when Scarlet hosted, it never had that clean, professional sterility that reunions often had. The two Firsts were greeted by several ShinRa workers and scientists as they walked in; it took what seemed like an eternity before they finally found Scarlet and the heads of the Weapons Department in order to formally greet them.

‘Scarlet!’ Genesis extended his arms as she turned around to meet them. He'd never really been fond of the woman, but he approved of her style, and that was enough to be affectionate. He let her take him by the shoulders and press her immoderate bosom against him shamelessly, kissing both his cheeks. Sephiroth gave him a surreptitious glance while this went on, to which Genesis grinned – they both knew it was all playacting with the ShinRa heads.

‘My favourite Firsts,’ Scarlet was saying – funnily enough she checked her advances when she came to Sephiroth, contenting herself with a handshake.

‘How  _are_ you both? I've heard so much about your prowess, though to be honest I'm more up to date about your simulation testing than the handling of our latest international fuck-ups.’

‘That would be me,’ Sephiroth deadpanned, deflating the chest of his partner who'd been puffing up with pride.

But Scarlet didn't seem to have heard him as she swept around and began walking away, clearly expecting them to follow her. After a brief glance at each other, the two men complied.

‘If our testers weren't as handsome I suppose our simulation branch wouldn't be so fanatic about upgrading,’ she went on. ‘Same goes for the weapons branch as you can see. Then again if you weren't such damn traditionalists, I suspect the production speed would accelerate tenfold, which is  _not_  something I'd want to handle. My schedule is pretty damn full already.’

Genesis was laughing – he tried to open his mouth to protest, since both of them were generously paid to include ShinRa firearms in their arsenal, tested or not. But the woman ploughed on, leading them towards the tables where the heads were milling around, not knowing whether to sit.

‘So this is how it goes. The professionals come in with the new weaponry, and we summarize our new technology during each presentation. There are pauses for eventual buyers to express their interest.’

‘There'll be bidding?’ Genesis asked.

‘Yes.’

"Oh, goodie," the redhead smiled, to which Sephiroth gave a sharp, exasperated exhale.

‘Already tired of your new toys?’

‘My twin blades will always hold a special place in my heart,’ he said, placing a theatrical hand on his breast. ‘But as long as they're too weak to overpower you, I'll have to find new mistresses of steel.’

‘Weapons don't make the warrior,’ Sephiroth said with a rare grin.

‘I'm afraid you're wrong, General – anything's possible when you've got ShinRa manufacturers at your back,’ Scarlet broke in.

‘The Masamune isn't a ShinRa weapon,’ Sephiroth argued.

‘Oh, shut up,’ Scarlet snapped – Sephiroth had a habit of waving his weapon in front of their noses, only to whisk it away as soon as they tried to bribe him into handing it over so that they could make replicas that would be easier to handle and just as deadly. Conversation was pointless when it came to that subject. And they'd arrived at the tables anyway, so with one last lingering look at Genesis and one brief, irritable glance at Sephiroth, she broke away from them as the men started getting up.

‘The First Class elite,’ she introduced them as Heidegger hauled his gigantic gut over his table to greet them.

‘Boys!’ the monstrous man shouted, coming to pat them on the back and practically knocking them into the tables. They were ushered to their seats, and the music was lowered slightly to allow conversation. Genesis spoke for the both of them, eager to please as always, whilst Sephiroth spent most of the conversation reclining on his chair, arms folded with one finger twitching impatiently, eyes on the entrance to see who was attending. There were questions as to Angeal's absence, and Sephiroth smiled to himself discreetly as Genesis made something up – sometimes he wondered why he didn't listen to the rational friend rather than the despotic one. He was starting to wish he'd followed Angeal's example as Hojo appeared at the tables, sitting down a few seats away. There were times when he'd feel the absence of his Masamune like a cold burn across his back – and as he felt the scientists leering across the tables at him, he felt his fingers tightening automatically around an imaginary hilt.

The music ebbed away, the ordinary lights shut off, leaving them in darkness as red and green lights began sweeping across the walls. Sephiroth's gaze broke away from the door as someone bumped him from behind – and then Scarlet's arms had appeared around his friend's shoulders.

‘You're going to like this,’ she told him as the redhead surreptitiously looked over at Sephiroth, eyes wide in a playful grimace of horror. He checked himself just as Sephiroth suppressed a smile, tilting his head back so that he was leaning against Scarlet's bosom.

‘You know I always adore your arrangements, Scarlet,’ he purred.

‘I hired our professionals from the same spot as before,' the head of Weapons Department grinned, and Genesis' expression immediately sobered. Sephiroth looked at him curiously – it wasn't often that Genesis lost his much-needed glamorous façade when they were in public like this. He hoped the man wouldn't sober up too much – he had to admit it, he'd become rather dependent on his friend's energetic demeanour when it came to ShinRa meetings, be they official or officious like this particular occasion.

‘Have I ever told you how much I love you?’ Genesis was saying, and Scarlet laughed, letting her arms slip away from his shoulders as she straightened and headed back to her seat.

‘Never when I really deserve it,’ she replied over her shoulder, ‘and only when what I do suits you. But don't they all?’

‘Anyone you know?’ the General asked once Scarlet was out of earshot.

‘Oh yes,’ Genesis grinned at him mysteriously, his expression oddly changed.

Then just as an expectant silence was settling, there was the sound of galloping hooves – the audience was looking at the stage where an empty holographic board waited to be lit with information according to each weapon. Half the audience jumped as there was a clear ring of trumpets, columns of gas exploding at regular intervals across the stage border. They'd improvised a catwalk out of two tables – the lights swept across them erratically before hovering on the curtain at the left side of the stage. Just as a heavy drumbeat began bouncing across the audience, the curtain fluttered aside and a figure began walking down the stage, lost in shadows and smoke as she advanced slowly to the middle of the stage. The lights avoided her, sweeping near enough to make her jewel-clad legs scintillate, catching on the vague forms of her weapons. Then just as she stopped in the centre of the stage, facing the public, the lights speared straight at her, the drums gave a messy improvised rhythm before dropping completely, and the singer shouted –  _TE QUIERO PUTA!_

Genesis was laughing – many of the men were laughing at the song choice. Sephiroth fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. The woman came down the tables, which were just next to them, giving the men an ideal vantage point. She was wielding what looked like two whips – Sephiroth squinted as he tried to make out the details of the two beauties through the smoke and men's heads. The girl smiled through the glittering black paint that covered her face – she lifted the whips slowly, out of the smoke, so that it became apparent that they had swallowed her hands and forearms in artful swirls of black. There had to be some sort of handle or means of maneuverability in her hidden fingers, because there was a click and hum of electricity as a pulsating green energy began trickling down both whips. The green light made her skin glow as she stared down haughtily at the public, before expertly swinging a whip in the air and letting loose a splintering crack of energy above their heads.

Sephiroth practically blanched at the sight of a prostitute wielding classified ShinRa weapons. He looked around to see if there was any sort of enforced dissuasion to use the weapons on the public, noticing absently that Genesis had left his side – indeed, there were guards at the back of the room who had weapons at the ready. But still, he found it unbelievably stupid that these uneducated and surely very vehement girls were allowed to actually turn on the weapons for the demonstration.

He got up and went over to Scarlet as the public wolf-whistled and applauded the grotesque show.

"Whose wonderful idea was this?" he shouted in her ear.

‘All mine,’ she grinned, knowing full well from the look on Sephiroth's face that he didn't approve. But then again if anybody depended on Sephiroth's approval for anything they might as well wait until the Weapons' awakening.

‘So you don't care that these girls could very well kill a dozen odd ShinRa executives  _before_  being shot?’

‘Now why would they do that?’ Scarlet sneered at him, pivoting on her chair so she could face him. ‘They'd lose their primary source of income. These girls wouldn't gain anything by killing any of us. Put yourselves in their position – all they see here is inflated purses and opportunities to offer themselves a year's worth of good meals. Not political posterboys to kill for the sake of anti-capitalism.’ The woman laughed. ‘I don't think you can afford to be anti-capitalist when you're a whore. Shared goods and universally owned professional assets, my arse. How would you like it if your cunt belonged to the State?’

She was laughing at her own joke, and Sephiroth felt like vomiting. Or perhaps annihilating the entire female population of Midgar.

‘That doesn't even make sense,’ he spat. ‘You disgusting woman.’

‘Oh, you know you love me,’ Scarlet giggled.

‘What about accidents?’

‘Not going to happen,’ Scarlet sighed. ‘I know these girls. There are only a few new ones but they've never let me down. Now sit your arse down and enjoy yourself for once, why don’t you?’

Sephiroth glared down at her. ‘Perhaps you should take up their job if it amuses you so much.’

‘Perhaps you should too,’ she shot back. ‘Loosen you up a little.’

‘I don't need loosening,’ he growled.

‘I know you don't,’ she smiled. ‘On the contrary. It's  _hardening_  that you need.’

‘Oh don't worry,’ the General said, his voice a thinly veiled threat. ‘I use whetted steel to compensate.’

They were interrupted by the Weapons Department spokesmen as they began turning on the weapon description on the holographic board and introducing the weapon. The music had been turned down so that they could be heard, and the woman was turning this way and that to show off the weapons. As the information went on, Sephiroth glanced over at the crowd to see if he could locate Genesis – the man was standing directly in front of the prostitute, a few steps away. He was smiling up at her in what looked like adoration, and when she cracked her whips it was him that she glanced down at, still wearing that disdainful, haughty expression that fleetingly gave her face a queenly air. Being all in black, she was truly a sight to behold – but all Sephiroth could think of was how such handsome features were utterly wasted on a whore.

He moved away from Scarlet's chair in order to get his glass of liquor and stand nearer the wall, sighing in an attempt to let go of the irritation the damn woman had provoked. He'd ask Genesis what was the reason for his apparent fascination later – for now, he needed to blend into the crowd and force himself to be curious about the weapons instead of appalled by the girls themselves. Ornaments, Genesis had said – they were only ornaments. Nothing that should aggravate him too much. That is, as long as they stayed onstage.

**•**

There had been about eight women to have presented their weapons – and now it was her turn. Aeris was shaking in her heels like a newborn filly getting used to her overly long legs. Each girl had their own song to perform to since the presentations were all supposed to last 15 minutes, plus a few more for eventual bids, but Hegemony had stayed onstage for at least half an hour. Aeris hoped against hope that she could break the records of speedy presentations.

She gripped the staff she’d chosen as she waiting by the curtains. All week she'd practiced her weaves to be able to execute the proper twirling for the demo. The staff had only one feeble materia in its many slots so that she could power it up in an example of its capacities. There was a little bypass mechanism that she should use to activate the materia since she wasn't supposed to know how to activate it - but she was still wondering whether to use it or to test her own abilities. It wasn't wise to show off that kind of ability, but still – to have materia in her possession made it so tempting to finally let out all that bottled energy, that potential. It was only a demo after all…

Her music began, and the girls encouraged her as she stepped through the curtains – the lights were green and yellow on her as she wandered through the smoke, hips swaying to accompany the heels, the panels of her dress floating around her in an ethereal cloud of fabric and twinkling sequins. She was under the impression that her entire body was cavernous and empty save for a bloody, quivering heart, her pulse was so heavy in her chest.

Then suddenly there was a gap in the smoke and a hundred faces appeared below her.She felt her heartbeat triple as she forced herself to turn around and start down the catwalk, staring ahead at the wall with all her might. She used the staff as a walking stick, swaying on her heels and telling herself _I’m not gonna fall,_   _I’m not gonna fall_. Such was her concentration that she would've stepped right off the last table if it hadn't been for the wolf-whistling that broke through her mantra.

She looked down at the crowd, so high up that she suddenly realized she was wearing a godamned skirt – of course she was, what a marvelous situation – but as the main attraction was supposed to be the weapon, she planted her legs apart for balance and began twirling it around her.

As the violins took up an epic rhythm in her attributed song, she closed her eyes, pretending she was in her church again. She was practicing in the fierce light of day that shone down through the roof and nobody was there. Nobody was staring at her. She sent the staff into figures of eight on either side of her, the rhythm lulling her deeper into the fantasy, then when she raised it above her head there was something hot surging through her veins – before she could check it, it _burst_ out from her hands. The Fire materia embedded in the staff surged to life.

Though the materia was low-levelled, it made the entire staff tremble with the sunburst that exploded from its tip. Aeris suddenly realized that if she didn't control herself she could shoot a Fire spell into the room instead of just infusing the weapon with the materia's energy. She blinked in panic as the flaming halo surrounded her, enclosing her lithe figure in a transparent shell of undiluted energy.  _Shit, shit, shit_ – she didn't know if this was actually – was the staff supposed to do that?

There were whistles and thunderous applause as she stood there, breathing hard and trying to hold back the shivering energy that poured from her veins into the materia. She'd never done this, never would've thought that an active materia would respond to her so powerfully – she'd only ever tried with what her mother had left her, which didn't have such flamboyant reciprocity.

She couldn't calm down, couldn't seem to unclench her jaw and fingers and what was she doing, what was she doing, she was going to betray herself – but then as she let the panic engulf her mind, the energy seemed to disperse as though troubled by her lack of concentration, and the halo withdrew into the staff’s glowing tip.

The song ended, and the applause continued until the spokesmen were forced to ask for silence in order to explain the weapon's capacities and purposes of construction. She let herself breath for a bit, legs planted wide apart and staff held in her hands in a defensive pose. It hadn't been that hard, after all, and she hadn't even tripped over, which could only be good. It wasn't over yet, of course, but the worst was done. Well. Hopefully.

She took advantage of the small pause to take a look at the audience. She could hardly see them through the glare of the projectors that lit up the corners of her eyes. There were faces and shouts, but she couldn't distinguish what they were saying – the room wasn't overly large so a single sweep of the eye could take it all in. There were little groups here and there; she started as she glimpsed a mane of long white hair, half hidden by the little group of journalists who were crowding around its owner. It was – it was him! The legendary Soldier, or as the Bee girls liked to call him, Mr Frigid – she didn't realize she'd been staring at him until he turned his head to return her gaze, as an observed person is wont to do.

Heart in her mouth, Aeris took up her staff again and swung into an effortless weave – she wobbled a little, biting back a cry, as she realized that people were chucking Gil notes all over her stage, paper fluttering around her legs. When one man reached to tuck a hundred-Gil bill into one of her garters, she flinched away, wobbling dangerously.

‘You a luxury whore or something, to refuse tips?’ The men were laughing.

‘Probably got a sense of nobility, this one.’

Her fake lashes weighed on her eyelids as they fluttered in fright – she repressed the urge to rip them off, to rip everything off and run,  _run_ , out of this room, out of her skin. It was too much – there were too many eyes on her, and she was alone amidst so many dangerous men – what in Gaia's name had convinced her that this wouldn't be difficult? She could feel every sequin digging into her sweaty skin, ribs pushing against the corset as she fought to breathe. 

She tried to do as Gem had told her, imagining it was all just a simulation, but then as she tried to change her pose her eye caught the high blond ponytail of an impossibly attractive woman – the most surrounded person in the room. Red dress, fleshy lips and a ridiculous cleavage; it was Scarlet, the one who'd hired them, the one who’d shown her the staffs. And she was looking up at her with cold curiosity in her eyes as she barked replies at the several men who were egging her about something. There was another man who was looking at her with the same strange intent as he spoke to Scarlet… red hair, red leather…

_Oh no._

_Oh no, no, no!_

She turned around in a wild attempt to hide her face from his scrutiny, back to the audience as she twirling the staff around and around her waist. Why was he looking at her like that? If they could only let her walk back to the other room, oh,  _Gaia_ , they were going to recognize her – they already had, it was obvious, it was inevitable, it had been all along. There were shouts as the bids started, and she turned around again, facing away from Scarlet the First Class she'd encountered at the bar. She continued posing until Scarlet clapped her hands to end the bidding, and she was free to walk back.

She sighed as she turned around, legs trembling in her heels as she practically ran for the curtains. 

**•**

Genesis had a funny look in his eye when Sephiroth decided to regain the tables.

‘What's up with you?’ the General asked him, a faint suspicion in his tone as his friend motioned for him to sit down next to him.

‘Didn't you see her?’

‘Which  _her_  are you referring to?’ Sephiroth drawled. ‘The broadsword, the M8 Mako Rifle, the whips? The whips were rather interesting, I agree.’

‘Clever, as always,’ Genesis groaned. ‘I was talking about that plain and uninteresting human female, you know, the one who can  _wield materia._ ’

‘Oh yes,’ Sephiroth shrugged. ‘Well, there are mechanisms that allow a normal human to bypass their biological incapacity – ’

‘Sephiroth. You're not going to tell me you believe a simple mechanism can make materia react like that?’

Sephiroth sighed. ‘I don't know, Genesis. She's a prostitute.’

‘And?’

‘Well, they spend their time  _activating_  things, don't they? It must be some sort of energy flow they've gotten in touch with.’

Genesis was laughing. ‘You're not very good at being implicit, General.’

‘The fact is, I really couldn't care less,’ the good General explained. ‘So unless you want Hojo to start getting excited, I'd shut up about it if I were you.’

They'd started lounging around, sipping their glasses among the blathering ShinRa executives until Genesis perked up with a sudden, ‘Ah! Here they come,’ as he looked over at the door. Sephiroth followed his gaze, and inwardly shivered with reluctance as he saw the women pouring in.

‘I thought you said they wouldn't be mingling?’

‘I never said that. I said I wasn't sure, but that I very much hoped they would. Your brain must've subconsciously jumped to the most comfortable solution.’

‘Gaia,’ Sephiroth sighed. ‘I'm getting another drink.’

‘Get me one too in that case?’ Genesis laughed as the man scraped his chair back.

‘That's what I'm here for, you little bastard,’ Sephiroth said over his shoulder.

‘I love him to pieces,’ Genesis said to the environing heads – Scarlet scoffed as the men ignored him.

‘He hardly deserves all he gets,’ she said, to which Genesis gave a deep, heartfelt nod.

‘Indeed.’

**•**

‘So this is essentially the part where – ‘

‘We get our customers,’ Harmony nodded.

‘And our alcohol,’ Gem said, eagerly rubbing her hands together.

‘Watch out for scams.’

‘And don't get drunk.’

‘And  _don't_  come onto Sephiroth.’

‘Especially if you're drunk.’

‘And especially if Vale's aggravated him beforehand.’ There was a faint 'hey!' from down the corridor as the girls ran from their room to the conference room, each going in when they were properly ready.

‘Ok, let's go.’ Harmony looked them both up and down, rolling her eyes at Gem before suddenly realizing that Aeris was much shorter than moments before. ‘Darling – where are your feet?’

‘Right here,’ Aeris smiled, wiggling her bare toes.

‘You're going to get trampled,’ Harmony cried, all maternal instinct and protectiveness as always.

‘I think I'm going to get trampled in every sense of the word anyway. My feet aren't what bother me the most,’ the flowergirl said. ‘Come on then. I'm at your tail.’

**•**

Genesis had his eye on the one who had opened the demonstration as soon as the girls had invaded the room. There were hardly twenty of them, but what with all that glitter and the fact that they were all practically taller than everyone it was impossible to ignore them. The girl of interest was all in black, corset cinching her waist rather painfully, hair up in a thick Mohawk that tumbled down her back to her waist.

Sephiroth would've teased him about his tastes which he found rather strange, had he been free of the obligatory conversation with Hojo, Hollander and the other head scientists who'd contributed to certain aspects of the weapons. One look from Hojo had summoned him to that end of the table, where the little group were all standing and talking animatedly among themselves.

He'd taken Genesis with him, giving him one of those looks that meant  _This is not optional_ , which Genesis had responded to with a look that meant  _You already owe me too much_ , not moving a single toe-hair's distance from where he stood. Sephiroth had then frowned to add that little  _You have a duty of friendship towards me_  authoritarian quality to the glare, to which Genesis had sighed, tried a small pleading look that had been crushed immediately, and uncrossed his arms to follow his friend.

There ensued a long conversation on the art of combat and the psychology of Soldier, during which Sephiroth tried to suppress the familiar disgust that rose in his throat, and the discomfort that he felt whenever he was around this man. It was purely physical – Hojo only treated him once a month now, and every session was very formal, leaving nothing to be ashamed of. But he couldn't hold back the feeling, and it was visible; Genesis even went as far as dropping his ever-present mocking act to support the man as Hojo and Hollander droned on.

This didn't escape the scrutiny of the milling women. Aeris had stuck close to Gem at first, who had gladly accepted to show her how it was done in this sort of pseudo-formal situation. The Soldiers and executives had watched, very much amused, as this human version of the Midgar Zolom went around with a barely budding flower stuck to her heel. Aeris hardly reached the other woman's bosom without her heels, and she was blaringly normal after the painted face and violently modified silhouette of her friend. But both of them, like the rest of the girls, kept stealing glances over at the VIP table as they encountered journalists, grunts, secretaries – not exactly a population of ShinRa underdogs, but enough to make them feel rather comfortable. Aeris couldn't help wincing and turning her face every time she saw a Second Class uniform. This was still a bad idea, however much money the girls insisted she would make.

‘Chime, sweetie?’ Gem looked down at her as they broke away from a group of young, curious grunts who were probably seeing their first sex workers. ‘How's it going so far?’

‘Those guys were really rude,’ Aeris couldn't help saying, feeling rather defiled by how the grunts had thought she was a joke. Most of the customers she'd had down at the Inn had been respectful, understanding that it was a simple service, nothing particularly hilarious about it. But them…

‘I know,’ Gem said. ‘This is the Plate. There'll be far more idiots than understanding folk up here, you'd better get used to it.’ She looked around them as they leaned casually against a table. ‘Oh, bloody hell. There she goes again.’

‘What?’ Aeris followed her friend's gaze, seeing several girls sitting around the VIP table and chatting with the executives, mostly flinging loud responses and laughing. But before she could see exactly who was who, they were accosted by a very handsome pair of men in black suits, one bald, one – oh,  _shit._

‘Hello, girls.’

Aeris tried as hard as she could to cover her face with her braids, hoping Gem would overshadow her with that staggering presence of hers. She should've known the Turks would be lurking.  _Ok, that's it. I am_ never _doing this again._

‘Rude of the Turks,’ Gem said, intonation giving the man's name a regal quality. ‘I'm honoured.’

‘Surely you've heard of  _us_ rather than just him?’ the long-haired, scraggly counterpart said.

‘I'm not sure you two have met,’ Rude said with his impossibly low voice. ‘Gem, this is the dirt on my shoe, Reno. Reno, this is the most beautiful woman who'll ever willingly set eyes on you, Hegemony. You can thank me later.’

‘Glad to meet you, dirt.’ Gem smiled a sharp, pointy smile as she extended a hand to the offended redhead.

‘And you, hooker.’ They shook hands. ‘No offense of course- ‘ Reno added hastily, but Rude had already punched him in the side. ‘ _Oof!’_

‘None taken.’

She must have sensed Aeris' withdrawal, because she thankfully didn't introduce her, and the Turks didn't express any particular interest either. With an sigh of relief, Aeris told herself she'd knock her friend over with kisses later.

While the three were talking she looked over at the VIP table again, and was immediately drawn to the huddle of white coats. It was kind of ironic to see such serious men being accosted by the most provocatively dressed women – they were the kind of men that normal girls usually overlooked, either out of intimidation or plain fear. There was a movement among the cloaks and her heart plummeted as she saw that – that face. Wide forehead, lanky black hair, glasses, a leering sort of expression… she knew that face. The last time she'd seen it must've been at least a century back, but it wasn't the sort of face you'd forget.

And right next to the deranged character, there was another one of those faces that have a physical impact on you – she almost winced again as her eyes accidentally brushed over the General's tall figure. He was staring at Hojo as the other man spoke, eyes heavy-lidded with what looked like boredom – arms crossed over a half-open shirt, he looked strangely reproachful as they all contributed to the conversation, some agitatedly, some looking like tired old philosophers. She tilted her head to the side absently as an arm appeared around his shoulders; his head twitched to the side as the girl leaned over to smile at him, sitting on the table upon which he was leaning.

Aeris frowned as she recalled everything the girls had said about him being a bit of an elitist when it came to social circles. Why were they still trying after so many failed attempts? Perhaps she hadn't spoken to those who had succeeded – but surely they would've told her about any success stories with such a rare prize as Sephiroth's attention.

**•**

‘I know you.’

The blonde smiled in delight. ‘I didn't think it was possible for us to stay in your memory for very long, let alone penetrate it.’

‘Memories are formed when an emotion taints the scene, or people involved,’ the General murmured in a ridiculously seductive tone, head bowed as he spoke to the women next to him. He hadn't even removed her arm, which was a true feat of patience.

‘And what did you taint me with?’ the blonde murmured.

‘Anger,’ the General said, lifting a finger to trail its tip along the girl's jaw. ‘Intolerable amounts of it.’

‘I'm flattered that I can draw intolerable amounts of  _anything_  from you,’ the blonde replied breathlessly, her smile widening just as Sephiroth's fingers locked around her jaw and slowly guided her chin up so that her mouth was intimately close to his.

‘Do you even understand what I’m trying to tell you?’ he spoke as her eyes angled on those shapely, unattainable lips. ‘The next time you touch me will be the last time you have hands.’

She seemed to understand that the seductive tone was just his way of fucking with her – she took her arm away from him and jerked her chin out from his grip, eyes downcast. She brushed herself down, cheeks burning red as she took the rejection and shuffled away. Sephiroth only picked up his drink and took a sip, staring coolly into the distance.

‘Is he bullying her again? Let me at him –  _let me at him –_ ‘

A pair of broads erupted out of nowhere, stringing arms around the rejected girl's shoulders and standing around him so close that he almost choked on the cocktail of strong, musky perfumes.

‘Lord General of my  _cock_ ,’ one of the women spat as he sat there holding back bewildered laughter. ‘Just so you know, we're professionals. We're not here to be insulted. Just because you were born in a ShinRa-stamped test tube with a ShinRa stamped silver spoon in your fucking mouth doesn't mean you can blow us all off.’

‘Kat – stop it –  _shut up –_ ‘

‘No, Vale, I won't have it. Every single time we accept to just stand and let this  _wa- ‘_

_SLAP._

Another woman, who had been listening in on the scientists' discussion and nodding every now and then as if she actually understood, had stepped up and quite regally slapped the hell out of the offender, who was stumbling backwards. Sephiroth looked on, quite baffled by what he was apparently provoking – not that it was an unfamiliar scene, he just never got used to the ridiculousness that sprouted around feminine whims to get his attention.

‘Get her out of here,’ the dominant woman ordered the other two, and they scrambled away with the offender squeezed between them. The remaining lady turned to Sephiroth and bowed down low, giving him both the respect he deserved and a wonderful, unobstructed view of her cleavage. He wondered which was really intended.

‘Deepest apologies, sir.’ She straightened so that he could admire the serious demeanour of that remarkably handsome, oval face. ‘Won't happen again.’

He recognized her, too… she was the one who had approached him last time. She'd been quite polite, unlike what he was used to. Not that that changed the fact that he'd been having a conversation – however repugnant the interlocutors, he preferred having Hojo up in his face than this horde of shameless, hormonally dysfunctional females.

The serious woman stepped aside to reform the conversational circle that had been somewhat disrupted by the commotion, and after suffering the amused stares of the scientists, Sephiroth grumbled into his liquor as the others forced the conversation along with a few words. As he looked up he noticed that Genesis had apparently deserted him – and thankfully so. The man certainly didn't need another motive to piss him off.

**•**

Genesis was coming towards them.

_Oh, Gaia._ Aeris couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a breath, trapped between the Turks who by some miracle were turning a blind eye to her presence, and the First Class who'd very probably recognized her already.

Aeris squeezed Gem's arm before slipping away towards a random grunt who was sitting by himself nearby. Hopefully if she could just act normal – act calm – nothing would happen, and she could go back down safe. She didn't even feel the pressure of having to capture someone's attention any more – she just fervently wanted this night to be  _over_  already.

‘Mind if I join you?’ she asked the shy blonde with a smile as he looked up at her in surprise. He had those electric blue eyes that all Mako-enhanced Soldiers had, and she found them oddly soothing to behold as she sat on the table beside him.

‘Oh, I – ‘ the man stammered. ‘I don't – I mean, I don't have any money on me.’

Strange, how such a simple and logical statement could hurt so much. ‘It's alright,’ Aeris told him. ‘I'm just looking for company.’

The blonde stared at her as though afraid she might pounce on him, before sipping some of his liquor, grimacing as it went down.

‘Too strong for you?’ Aeris smiled. She was about to add how she didn't do alcohol either, but then the grunt took the opportunity to thrust the glass in her hands with a nervous grin before getting up.

‘You can have it. I'll go get something else,’ he mumbled before shooting off. Tensing up at the sudden vulnerability of being alone, she didn't even register how rude he was as she heard that familiar drawl just behind her where Gem was still entertaining the Turks.

‘ _Ripples form on the water's surface… the wandering soul knows no rest_.’

‘Genesis.’ The name was a song on her lips. Aeris dared to turn a fraction to see how Gem was fairing with all that important company. Genesis was standing just beyond the Turks, who both stepped aside immediately to form a circle.

‘Sir,’ they both said.

‘Am I bothering you in your search for ordinariness?’ Genesis smiled. He was staring at her like a drug addict stares at a Mako syringe – heavy lidded eyes, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘You are,’ Gem said, adopting a strangely haughty attitude.

He stepped forwards, and the two Turks glanced at each other before nodding at Gem and walking away.

‘Hegemony,’ he murmured as he closed the distance between them. ‘You were cruel to abandon me like that.’

‘You know how it goes,’ Gem said. ‘Too much affection bores me, Genesis. So much money for so little innovation… I'd rather take my chances elsewhere.’

Genesis lost his smile as she said this, though the look in his eyes gained in intensity. ‘Give me another chance to innovate. I swear I won't disappoint.’

Gem lifted her chin – her mane of hair shimmered as she did so, expression seemingly taking the man's offer into consideration as if she had a dozen better offers against which to weigh his.

‘How long are you going to take advantage of the system?’ she said. ‘You should consider yourself lucky to have known me at all.’

‘It's been so long,’ Genesis insisted. ‘You've forgotten how good I can be to you.’

‘Perhaps I have,’ she retorted. ‘Perhaps it was nothing worth remembering.’

Genesis stepped closer, casting a shadow over her as he gazed at her.

‘D _reams of the morrow hath the shattered soul,’_  he whispered. ‘Let me try again.’

‘It depends on what price you'd place on my patience,’ she said.

Aeris frowned as the man bowed, taking Gem's hand in his and pressing his lips against it like some fervent worshipper kisses a saint's fingers.

‘You won't be disappointed,’ he said, looking up at her with something between malice and adoration in his gaze. She pulled her hand from his grip, hardly even looking down at him.

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

Aeris hadn't realized she'd turned her head a little more to have a better view of the strange exchange – Genesis suddenly looked straight at her, still bearing that heavily loaded gaze. She froze, pulse quickening as she forced herself to nod politely and turn away as fast as she could. Stupidly enough, she'd started calming down, thinking that Gem had successfully diverted everyone's attention from her, but clearly this man couldn't be fazed. She gulped down her alcohol as she heard him straighten in a light creak of leather. There were steps…it sounded like he was moving away. Yes, he couldn't be interested in her – clearly he was Gem's regular, so there was no point in him approaching her even if he had recognized her. Unless he wanted to scare her – but where was the profit in that? He wouldn't bother…

He was right in front of her before she knew it.

‘ _So,_ ’ he said, smile widening so much that she thought he would uncover a third row of teeth. This was not good. ‘Have you gathered who I am yet?’

Oh, this was  _definitely_ not good. Aeris forced herself to return the smile. ‘Excuse me?’

‘This is perfect,’ he said, still not losing that awful, predatory smile. ‘You know, at first I couldn't place you – but then you staged that excellent fire trick, and I have to say it was that frightened expression that made me recognize you.’ He stepped closer, and she couldn't even move back on the table; this had to be some kind of bad dream. This couldn't be happening. Not to her.

‘Fear enhances the features so deliciously,’ he went on. ‘You're confirming it right now.’

It was useless to keep on denying her identity, but she did so anyway. ‘I'm not sure we've met,’ she tried not to stammer. ‘But I've definitely heard of you before. You're Genesis, First Class Soldier, one of Sephiroth's closest friends.’ She'd deduced that from the gazes she'd seen them exchanging – she hoped it was true.

‘And you're a very clever girl,’ Genesis said. ‘But there's no need to pretend.’ Then he leaned closer, and Aeris’ heart thumped as his perfumed hair brushed her cheek – his lips moved right by her ear as he whispered it: ‘ _Aeris_.’

She tried to think, to stop her racing heart. _OK. OK. He knows your name. What can he do to blackmail you, really?_ Well. There was the problem of Elmyra, if he knew enough about where Zack spent his nights. And if she ever wanted to work up on the Plate… he probably had connections all over the city, he could ruin that for her, too. Or he could humiliate Zack, by putting it out there that he didn't mind if his ‘girlfriend’ saw other men for money. He might've said that Sephiroth didn't care what his Soldiers were up to after their shifts, but that was very likely wrong, seeing how Sephiroth seemed to hate sex work altogether. But she wasn’t feeling very gracious towards Zack right now – it was because of his choice of restaurant and his bloody big mouth that she was even in this predicament at all. Couldn’t he have told her that that guy at the Condor had been a Soldier?!

What could she say? This was the nightmare the other girls had warned her about. She could only try to tread carefully.

’A gentleman would keep that information to himself,’ she said, putting on a brave face.

Genesis moved away, still smiling, as though he'd confirmed a personal deduction. ‘But of course,’ he said. ‘Second question: how is it that you can wield materia?’

‘Wield materia?’ She laughed nervously. ‘I don't know. I mean, I used the mechanism. I've never wielded materia before and – I thought it was impossible for anyone who hasn't had Mako treatment?’

‘You may never have wielded it before,’ Genesis said. ‘But it certainly fed on you tonight. You have a strange affinity even if you're not conscious of your interaction with it. To be quite honest,’ he added, ‘I've never seen materia react like that with anyone other than Sephiroth himself.’

She didn't know what to say. ‘I didn't feel anything,’ she insisted. ‘And comparing me to Sephiroth is ridiculous.’

‘Indeed it is,’ Genesis agreed with a laugh. ‘But I was simply stating a fact. Care to join me?’

She frowned at him as he offered her a leather-clad arm, her head completely empty of anything else than the blaring red siren that had gone off as soon as he'd appeared in front of her. Seeing her reluctance, he cocked an eyebrow.

‘Come on. It'll be fun.’

‘Actually I…’ Her head was spinning. This couldn't be happening. ‘I'm feeling a bit queasy with the alcohol… I wouldn't be good company.’

‘Nonsense,’ Genesis said. ‘You've been splendid company so far.’ She looked at him, hoping her gaze would persuade him to – what? Be nice to her? ‘Come on, girl. You know better than to refuse.’

There it was. The careless, offhanded but still very real threat. And even if it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for Elmyra to know – even if she still wasn’t sure whether he really could ruin her life when the idea of living on the Plate was still so far away – it was all entangled with the fact that she didn't want the rumour spreading, didn't want to incriminate Zack, didn't want to break his trust. He'd already broken hers but it hadn't involved anyone else, it had hardly mattered even though she was still mad at him. It didn't matter as much as reputation. Nothing mattered as much as that in this city.

She took Genesis' arm, eyes downcast.

‘There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?’

Just when she thought her situation could hardly get any worse, Genesis had brought her over to the VIP table, where Hojo and Sephiroth stood. She'd given Gem a small glance as Genesis had offered her his other arm – the woman had responded with an anxious, questioning gaze, before falling into step with them. Gem had probably heard everything, but how could she have intervened when there was a net of lies covering everything they'd been talking about?

It was all such a mess. And it was definitely about to get messier.

‘Now,’ Genesis was saying as they approached the white coats. ‘I'm going to give you a mission… Oh, hang on.’ He turned to Aeris. "I haven't even asked you your name.’

Aeris stared up at him, trying to suppress the annoyance that his blatant provocations were arousing in her. ‘Chimera,’ she mumbled.

‘Charming,’ Genesis practically purred. "And if I may add, charmingly appropriate."

‘I told you, I didn't wield that materia,’ Aeris insisted, out of her mind with confusion.

‘Of course you didn't. Now listen,’ Genesis went on. ‘Don't say anything. Be shy. Keep your eyes down.’

‘What -?’

They'd come to the table where Sephiroth was sitting, much to Aeris' dismay – Genesis pulled his arms out of the two women's grips, motioning at Gem to go sit on the table next to Sephiroth. She complied with a deft roll of the eyes, and Genesis stepped up to wedge himself between her open thighs, his back against her chest.

Sephiroth being engaged in the discussion with the scientists, only glanced at his friend as he reappeared beside him. Aeris stood there dumbly, wondering what she was meant to do, and glaring at Genesis.

‘…the summons are still a controversial domain,’ Sephiroth was saying. ‘It's no longer a question of elements but of living creatures. Producing summoning materia is just about as criminal as reinstating slavery.’

‘We have no proof that the creatures summoned are in fact living beings, or elements taking on a form to better express their energy,’ a young scientist retorted. ‘Tracking the Bahamuts is impossible – and if you're going to claim that Odin is in fact a real man living in a palace in the clouds somewhere, you’ll be a laughing stock.’

‘The magic of natural summoning materia is something you're still deciphering,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I'm not saying those creatures are living and breathing, mortal beings. My grief is with the artificial production of summoning materia. I just don't see how that could work unless you forcefully bind a living creature to the materia, since nobody controls what's legendary and mystical like the natural summons.’

‘It would be more a question of duplicating the existing summoning materia,’ Hojo stated in that oily voice. ‘As for creating entirely new summons, or trying to duplicate the magic that binds something legendary to a piece of materia without needing its consent, well, that's the challenge.’

‘That's what I meant,’ Sephiroth said, bringing his hands up. ‘How is it not slavery to bind something to you without its consent?’

Aeris looked at Genesis just as this was said – noticing her, Genesis smiled to himself without returning the gaze. She refrained from grumbling, absently warming up to Sephiroth for denouncing this.

‘Perhaps they should try binding the great General to a summoning materia,’ Genesis piped up. ‘A legendary and mystical creature – willing to consent if the right sum is paid.’

The scientists laughed at that – all except Hojo of course, who was looking at Sephiroth with a deranged intent etched in his eyes. Aeris inwardly shivered, feeling oddly protective of the General as she saw that despicable man looking at him with a gaze she'd known all too well.

‘We don't all accept to sell our bodies for money, you know,’ Sephiroth replied with an amused glance at Genesis.

‘True, that,’ Gem piped up before her devotee could reply. ‘You’ll find that bodies have a mind of their own, though. I’ve been trying to sell mine for years but it just keeps returning to the sender!’

Genesis snorted at her sarcasm. The General only afforded her a quick glance.

‘Women could be another binding option,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Legendary and mystical, willingly selling themselves if it means survival and martyrdom all in one.’

‘Do you have to be so blatantly sexist all the time?’ Genesis sighed as that got an uneasy smattering of laughter as well.

One of the scientists reinstated the original discussion with a few words, and they were off again, talking about the morality of it all until Hojo had stamped out Sephiroth's opinion with a couple of irrefutable arguments, and the man crossed his arms over his chest to listen rather than contribute. After a few minutes he looked over his shoulder at the digital clock on the wall, and pushed away from the table he was leaning on to go towards the drink stand.

Aeris watched as several girls approached him, fawning over him and laughing whenever he replied to them as he made himself a cocktail with the bottles that covered the table. When he turned around they followed him, and he wasn't even bothering to reply to them any more as he came back to the group – Aeris could practically see the smoke lifting from his body as he barely kept his annoyance contained.

Genesis looked at her pointedly at that moment – she had come to lean against a nearby table as she waited for her role to become clear in this silly game. He nodded at her, and she nodded back at him uncertainly as the General came back to the table followed by three girls. He took his position next to Genesis with a heavy sigh of exasperation, looking straight ahead of himself as if he was afraid that setting his eyes on the girls would set loose the monster he'd been keeping locked up under his strained politeness.

‘Sephiroth,’ Genesis muttered to him. ‘Maybe you should just stick one at your hip to dissuade the others. Nobody's approached me.’

The General didn't even look in the girls' direction – he looked the other way, eyes falling inevitably on Aeris who still hadn't figured it out. She averted her gaze automatically, heart pounding, but then the man said, ‘You there.’ And she was forced to look up again, hardly able to hold such a naturally intense gaze as the General's as he stared at her. He jerked his head to the side as an invitation, and she went towards him awkwardly, still unable to shake off the feeling that this was a waking dream.

Oddly, the first thing he said when she was in front of him was, ‘Where are your shoes?’ She looked down his pointy, polished leather shoes, no doubt the price of your average slum house, and then at her bare toes, wiggling them automatically before inwardly slapping herself back to attention – she was in front of the  _General_  for Gaia's sake - he was actually acknowledging her existence, looking her up and down. Granted, he probably held the same opinion of her as he did the rest of the girls here, but still. She found herself being halfway between mindless panic and vain pride.

‘Um,’ she stammered, smiling nervously. ‘I couldn't walk in them.’

‘Not surprising,’ he deadpanned, before taking her roughly by the arm and fitting her next to him. She thought she would crumble under the weight of the arm that he put around her shoulders, but then he was searching in his trouser pocket and taking out a wad of notes. Handing them to her, he looked down at her tiredly. ‘I'm paying you to sit down and shut up. Nothing more.’

‘Happy to oblige, sir.’ She smiled up at him, practically hysterical with misplaced amusement and happiness. He was completely rude but she could understand where he was coming from and – and it was  _Sephiroth!_  The awed little girl inside her wanted to keep the notes like a souvenir of this moment, as well as a token from the world's most famous man alive. Her lithe fingers trembled as she flicked through each bill, not even counting them, just feeling the texture. The vain bubble that had swelled up in her at being under the General's arm had practically erased the fear of Hojo being right there, a few steps away. When she next laid eyes on him she'd forgotten he was there – she instinctively retreated into Sephiroth's side, stammering an apology when he looked down at her. Strangely enough he had a smile at the corner of his lips.

‘He can have that effect,’ he said in a rare conspiratorial tone. ‘Don't worry though, as long as you're not an abomination of nature, he won't be interested in you.’

She nodded, remembering his express order to shut up, and smiled to herself at how strangely nice he was being. She was briefly reminded of Harmony clinging to her idea of his politeness when he was still a bastard, and finally understood how easy it was to accept the man's rudeness when you had actually held a bit of his attention.

Gem was openly staring at her, and she waited until Sephiroth had rejoined the conversation with the scientists to look over at her, leaning back a little so that she could see her beyond that mane of white hair that was progressively sticking to her arm with the static. The girl had her arms out behind her on the table to support her weight, giving her a casual air, but the look she gave Aeris was full of urgent warnings and anxiety, with pride mingled in there somewhere. Aeris responded with a light shrug, raising her eyebrows to imply that she didn't know what was going on. Gem mouthed,  _Money?_ so she shook her head to negate any notion of sex _._ But Gem smiled at her anyway in that doggish way of hers, before lifting a hand to give her a discreet thumbs-up; rolling her eyes, Aeris looked away again, only to realize that many of the girls were shooting glances at her more often than not, most of which had customers which made it a bit awkward. She certainly wasn't looking forwards to the debriefing she'd have to do once below the plate again.

**•**

The comment about Hojo had been the last thing he'd said to her. Sephiroth had brought her with him like a silent mascot during the whole night, successfully repelling all other women who were obliged to give Aeris her chance and not obstruct her. She felt like the entire left side of her body was burning with reminiscence of his touch – arm around the shoulders, around the waist, hand on the arm, the forearm, even clutching hers impersonally as he tugged her with him – she was thinking about how she'd never wash that blessed left side of herself again as he walked up to Genesis after having spoken to countless officials.

‘Shall we go, before the drinking gets any heavier?’

Her insides plummeted. She'd seen the girls progressively leaving, each with a customer, each planning to spend the night on the upper plate before leaving for the Inn as a group the next morning. She should've known… should've planned things a little better-

‘Believe me, I've been wanting to leave ever since I laid eyes on her," Genesis grinned as he nodded in Gem's direction – she was fixing herself a drink, talking to a few of the remaining girls.

‘The Zolom?’ Sephiroth sighed. ‘You know, I'd really hate it if you turned up in the morning paper one day with your head bitten off.’

‘You wouldn't hate it. You'd laugh your arse off,’ Genesis grinned. ‘She's harmless enough though. Physically, I mean.’

‘Alright then, instead of headless you'll be somewhere in an asylum,’ Sephiroth said. ‘As you should be.’

‘You know you’d miss me too much. Honestly though, you can go, I'll just wait for her. Catch up later if you like.’

‘Alright.’ Aeris had been staring at them without listening, sorting through the possibilities – she only had one option at this time of night, which was to take the train back. And very probably alone, which was hardly good.

She started as Sephiroth looked down at her. Then he turned to face her, looming over her tiny frame - his scent clouded around her and the world seemed to melt away as he pinned her there with a mere gaze.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I suppose you'll be leaving with the others?’

‘Um…’ She hesitated to tell him – he didn't really need to know, and he'd probably just think she was pushing it or making it up to spend more time with him. But, she couldn't really lie since there were practically no girls left, and Genesis probably knew how it went. She looked at her bare feet to suggest that she wasn't trying anything by stating the truth. ‘We were expected to leave with customers, and then regroup tomorrow to travel back down safely. But those without customers just take the night train, I guess, so I'll be going to the station.’

‘Are you serious?’ Sephiroth said. ‘Your boss actually expects you to return safely on the Midgar night train? Does he know how dangerous it is?’ It was less genuine compassion than a statement on how incompetent their whole system was.

‘I don't know,’ Aeris stammered. ‘I mean… I'm supposing that's what girls do. Maybe I could find a hotel somewhere with the money you paid me.’

‘What do you mean, you're supposing?’ Sephiroth touched a finger to her chin to make her look up – he had an oddly concerned expression. Or maybe it was just confusion at the fact that a host that had suited him so well was actually new at this. ‘This is your first time on the plate, isn't it?’

‘No,’ Aeris said. ‘Not my first time. But I've never been up here at night.’

Sephiroth sighed, and she felt obliged to add, "’However dangerous it is, I know how to take care of myself. And you've given me more than enough for a hotel. I don't need help.’ She had been about to say 'Don't worry about me' but he clearly wouldn't be worrying about a lowly sex worker. It had been enough of a miracle to spend the night at his side, however silently it had been.

‘Don't be stupid,’ Sephiroth admonished her, and his severe tone almost made her wince. ‘You'll get picked up straight away if you go out on your own. I'll get you to a hotel.’

‘Are you  _serious?_ ’ Genesis cried indignantly, and Aeris almost jumped. ‘You are decidedly the most tactless man I have ever met. Your flat is the size of an entire floor of the ShinRa Headquarters – give the girl some credit.’

‘Genesis,’ Sephiroth said between clenched teeth. ‘This is none of your business.’

‘Goddess, look at her!’ Genesis put out an arm. ‘She's just a girl! Even I'd offer her some room in my flat if I wasn't busy tonight.’

Sephiroth's shoulders were all tensed up as he glared at his friend. ‘Are you done making me look like a complete disrespectful idiot?’ he growled, before turning back to Aeris, who was holding her breath. ‘Look, what do you prefer?’

‘Oh, she prefers spending all her hard-earned money on a hotel, of course,’ Genesis ranted, to which Sephiroth barked at him to shut up before turning to Aeris again.

‘Um…’ She couldn't even think, she was so bewildered at his proposition. She had started imagining what it would be like as soon as Genesis had spoken about the man's flat – an Upper world flat … Zack only had shoddy Second Class quarters, since he said he didn't want to waste money on a rent somewhere when he had sleeping quarters for free at the HQ. Not to mention, he didn't really spend his nights there anyway. But, to sleep in the General's personal flat… she was giddy as a little girl, just thinking about it.

‘You shouldn't be asking me what I prefer,’ she said hesitantly as she looked up at him again, crushed in the presence of such a violently handsome figure. ‘I won't accept to something that makes you feel uncomfortable.’

‘Well, I'm not uncomfortable with it," Sephiroth said as though the whole affair bored him. ‘Get your things and we'll get going.’

‘Is this true? Is this really happening?’ Genesis cried as Aeris started towards the door, having to brush past him. She stared at him as she passed – despite his hysterical act, he still had that no-good calculating look about him. He actually winked at her just before she turned away – she frowned up at him quizzically. There was no way she would believe that he wasn't doing all this for some strange personal reason. ‘I believe you'll be the first woman ever to set eyes on Sephiroth's interior. This is history in the making!’

‘Genesis, for the last time… shut up.’

**• • •**


	5. Chapter 5

• • •

There's something endearing about her.

I watch her as the elevator doors slide shut, eclipsing her small figure from my view. She looks as strained as a lamb in a slaughterhouse trying not to acknowledge the scent of blood – something about the fear in her face is simply so delicious. And that goes without even needing to mention how absurdly appropriate I find her current situation. It makes it almost too easy to manipulate her – she's like a rosy-red straight flush tumbling between my fingers, a satiny stroke of luck.

‘Why are you so interested in her?’

Hegemony follows me through the door to my apartment; Sephiroth lives at the very top of the building in the most spacious flats, whilst I am content with a smaller but infinitely livelier place. The walls are a deep blood red, and I've hardly shut the front door that I'm already pinning her to one of them. She smells of musk, leather and sex – and she's mine, mine,  _mine_. Zack’s charming friend slips my mind as I let myself get caught by that face, that scent, that shameless lust.

 _‘_ Goddess, I’ve missed you,’ I sigh.

‘Genesis,’ comes a seemingly disembodied voice, half disdain, half desire - soon enough her lips are open under mine, moist and yielding. But she turns her face, breaks away.

 ‘Tell me,’ she insists.

I’ve forgotten the question. Was there some sort of reality outside the blazing humidity of her mouth? It must've been drab if it melts away so thoroughly upon the slightest encouragement.

‘Tell you what?’

‘Chimera,’ she says. ‘Why does she interest you?’

‘She doesn't.’

‘Liar.’

Her reticence is starting to make my blood boil as she evades my kisses, waiting for me to answer.

‘How can you insist on my having adulterous thoughts, when it's been  _three weeks?_ ’ I tell her. ‘Three entire weeks that I've stayed chaste for you.’

‘Well I haven't stayed chaste for  _you_.’

’You were only doing your job.’

‘You think obligations can't be enjoyed?’

She's good at this. Of course. I only ever pick the best. ‘I think all obligations that don't include me shouldn't be enjoyed. No,’ I murmur. ‘Anything that I haven't personally paid for, shouldn't be enjoyed. I forbid you.’

‘You've got a gigantic debt then, if you want to go down  _that_  road.’

‘What about your debt?’

‘Which debt?’

‘ _This one_.’ I pull her hand down between my legs, and she grins in acknowledgement.

‘I believe I’m here to remedy that one,’ she murmurs. ‘Aren’t I?’

She sighs as I furrow into the snow white skin of her throat and feel it melt on my tongue, wondrously icy, and bitter with perfume. I know I’m pushing the boundaries, but I can’t help biting down, holding her tighter against me.

As expected, she immediately pushes me away, taking hold of my pauldron straps and slamming me against the opposing wall, red against red. Heavily outlined eyes bear into mine and I must be turning blue from breathless anticipation.

‘Soldier First Class Genesis,’ she intones. ‘Where _are_ your manners?’ I catch her smiling – we always allow ourselves a moment of familiarity before sinking into our respective characters, but there’s still a line I shouldn’t cross until I’ve given her her due. We both know exactly what’s ahead of us – I can already feel it in the way her hands tighten on me, how hyperaware I am of every movement she makes. I take a wad of notes from my pocket and press it into her hand, as is our custom. She gives me that professional smoulder of hers, and moves away from me to count her treasure. She knows I always give her the right amount – she just likes to reinforce the moment, bring a hint of formality back into the relationship, though whether it’s for her sake or mine I’m never sure.

I watch as she makes her way through my hallway. Such a graceful creature. All sharp edges and long curves. She’s asking me if the rope is still in its usual place, and I tell her to look for herself as I follow her through the living room and into the bedroom, divesting myself of coat and boots as I go. The world seems to shrink to this one room whenever we’re together – I’m practically salivating as I pull my jumper over my head and watch her move around my territory.

The ceiling above the bed has a metal grid on it, for suspension purposes. She’s looking up at the metal hook that we’ve so often used. My rope is in my bedside table drawer, in neat bundles – untouched since I last saw her. She arranges it on the bed, lovingly running her hands along the blood red coils. My throat goes completely dry when she looks in the drawer again and picks a Hyper needle out of it – she glances over her shoulder at me.

‘Oh, darling,’ she purrs. I have to physically stop myself from kneeling at her feet to beg for it. Instead, I cock an eyebrow at her, determined to appear as unruffled as she is, though she’s still fully clothed and I’m wearing naught but my trousers.

‘I was only experimenting,’ I say in my defense. ‘And actually, we should use it. They have an interesting effect on the body, when your blood flow is interrupted by rope.’

‘I’m sure they do,’ she says. ‘But with what I’ve got in mind, I’m not sure it would be safe – ’

‘Hegemony,’ I murmur, staring at the needle with aching need. ‘Trust me on this. I can take it. And besides – I’ve got a little something for you, too.’

She laughs. ‘You know I need to keep my wits about me for this.’

I go and pick out a bottle of wine from the one of my wardrobes. Then I turn around, showing her the label.

‘Glass of Ruby Cabernet, my love?’ I ask her. It’s one of her favourites.

‘Tch. You’re always spoiling me.’

‘Of course.’

The glasses are waiting on the bedside table too, so I busy myself with turning on some music and pouring her some while she unravels one of the rope bundles. She doesn’t look at me as I take off my trousers; she asks me how I’ve been instead, so I spin her a few tales about the latest places I’ve been posted to. Wutai outposts are especially good fodder for tales that don’t break the mood of the session – she’s laughing as she turns around to face me, rope in hand. I’m standing naked next to the bed, hands cupping my intimacy. Only three weeks and yet it still feels like I’m baring myself in front of her for the first time. She subtly looks me up and down, asking me more questions and I have to concentrate on the sounds her mouth is making.

‘How much did you say a whole night was?’ she asks me.

We’re talking about the tragedy of unregulated Wutain brothels. ‘It’s in Gil now, rather than Wutai currency. But yes, something like thirty Gil for five whole hours, and there are literally no limits to what they provide.’

‘Crisis,’ she says, looking horrified. I watch her as she chucks a length of rope over my shoulder. I let go of my cock, open my arms a little so she has access to my flanks. I’m staring up at her as she starts talking about a Wutain girl who’s relatively new at the Bee – I’m hardly listening to any of it, feeling the weight of the hemp falling down my back and knocking against my backside and thighs. She winds the rope around my chest and shoulders first, pressing her fingers against the intersections and looping it into knots as she creates a harness. There is so much rope to weave through each loop that she whips the length of it at her feet every time she pulls it loose. Pretty soon I’m listening to the sound of rope whipping in the air and the buzzing of friction, instead of her voice.

There is a silence, perhaps her expecting me to laugh or react to a conversational cue. I open my eyes, not realizing I’d shut them. She’s smiling at me.

‘You hardly need anything to get in the zone, do you?’ she says. Her smile isn’t unsympathetic, though she gives the knot between my pecs a playful tug as punishment. She continues to walk around me, taking my wrists and gently folding my arms behind my back. My chest comes forwards to accommodate the position as she weaves the rope into shackles. Already I can feel my breath becoming shorter. I smile.

‘I apologise,’ I murmur, and she lifts a hand to stroke my hair.  

‘No more talking,’ she says, her voice firm. She’s taken the hint and slipped into character. She’s always so marvelously attuned to how I feel, there’s never any need for awkward requests or demands to stop. I close my eyes again, and she resumes her work.

Once the harness is done, she stands in front of me with the wine glass in hand, taking a sip. I open my eyes in a crack, see how she’s contemplating my body. When she sees me looking, she lifts her chin haughtily, goes to put the wine glass down. It’s the closest she gets to discountenanced, when I catch her all but checking me out. I’m smiling as she comes back to me with more rope in hand. She kneels in front of me, looping the rope around my left thigh and ankle. I’m trying to visualize what kind of shape she’s going for, as she tends to pick from the same repertoire of twenty-odd shapes – when she loops more rope around my right thigh, deliciously close to the groin, I can’t help shivering.

‘Get on the bed,’ she says once she’s finished.

I comply, awkwardly pressing a knee into the mattress and falling forwards onto my side. She comes up next to me, gets back to work. She folds my right leg, tying rope around thigh and calf so that I’ll be unable to unfold it; she loops more rope around my hips and groin to protect my lower back, hemp sliding intimately around my balls. Blood is rushing through my body in unfamiliar patterns, making me gloriously giddy. Then she starts to work on the intricate web that will be suspending me. I lay there watching the glitter behind my eyelids, trying not to let any irrelevant thoughts ruin the moment until she finally tugs a little, and my left leg is pulled up and out, straightened by the strain of the ropes.

I glance up – she’s working the rope around the hook, securing it all for stability. Once she’s certain it’ll all hold, she gives the pulley system a little tug. I feel my hips and shoulders being lifted – I have to strain my core to remain straight, and I’m breathless as my body is lifted inch by inch off the bed. The rush of blood in my ears blanks out the music as she pulls me higher, and I have the presence of mind to look up into the mirror that sits behind the headrest – I’m stretched out sideways, back arched, arms behind my back, one leg tracing a straight line upwards while the other seems tucked away under it. The shape is amazingly graceful; my mouth parts stupidly as I contemplate the complex web that’s holding me up. She truly is a master of the art.

I catch her eye in the mirror as she steps off the bed and stands there gazing at her creation. There’s a soft look in her eyes that I’ve not noticed before. In my mindlessness I feel a surge of gratitude towards her, a surge of something close to love as I hang in empty space, too hazy to think of anything that might take away from the moment. This is the only thing I’ve ever found that wipes my mind blissfully clean – and she’s the best at it.

‘Beautiful,’ she says.

I don’t have enough sense or breath to reply.

She takes the syringe, teases me by walking around the bed to look at the shape from different angles. I can feel how rock hard my cock has gotten, hanging awkwardly from my pubis, but I’m not even thinking about sex – I’m thinking about the sensations that little red vial is going to give me. She comes closer, smiling at me in the mirror, those smoky eyes burning into mine. I bite my lip as she kneels on the bed, approaching my face. She angles her head appropriately since I can’t move, and kisses me full on the mouth, tenderly lapping at my tongue. I give a groan when she breaks away, saliva stretching in lines between our mouths. I can hardly keep my eyes open.

‘Are you sure about this?’ she murmurs.

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

It comes out quiet, pleading. She slides a hand into my hair, balls it into a fist to hold me in place. Then I feel the prick of the needle in the side of my neck, and it only takes a few seconds for the stimulant to flood my body in a wave of euphoria. I arch my back, eyes rolling into my head, moaning as every inch of my body is pummeled by the tidal wave. She steps back to observe my reaction, then pushes my shoulders so that I’m sent spinning slowly in empty space.  

It’s. I can’t describe. There’s the lines of the bedroom, turning all around. Can’t talk because she’ll. Don’t want her to laugh. But the stars make gold trails in the darkness and I’m in love. I’m so fucking happy. Want to laugh but lungs not working – they’re like little teabags in my chest, full of taste but no air.

See? Ridiculous.

 _Goddess,_ the feeling of it though.

I don’t need to breathe. Don’t need to move. Don’t need to be alive. Just  _this_.

Spinning in empty space.

... spinning...

When I open my eyes, there’s cold metal sliding across my skin and I realize Hegemony is hacking away the rope, cutting everything up with an urgency betraying fear. I groan against soft fabric, realizing she’s set me back down on the bed. When she hears me, she leans over me and tilts my head up.

‘Genesis? Can you hear me?’

‘Mmmh.’

‘Shiva’s fucking tits, Gen, don’t _ever_ do that to me again,’ she says, pulling lengths of rope from under me in quick tugs.

‘’s fine. I’m fine.’

‘No you’re not. You fainted,’ she snaps. ‘You know how damaging that can be. I thought you told me you could take it?’

My arms feel like heavy blocks as they curl against my chest. Once she’s done yanking all the rope away, she pulls me up against the pillows, cradling me in her arms.

‘… I might not have been entirely honest,’ I admit.

‘Really now,’ she rails. However angry she sounds, she’s still stroking my face like she’s too relieved to punish me properly. ‘You can’t do that. You know I’m out of my depths with a Soldier. I have no idea what your body can take.’

I laugh feebly against her.

‘You know more than most.’

She tutts impatiently, and we lie in each other’s arms for a blissful moment, me feeling myself drift slowly back down into my body, gravity pulling me down onto a solid even surface instead of jagged lines. When I’ve recovered enough presence of mind, I lift my wrist up to look at the intricate red patterns the ropes have imprinted there.

‘This shouldn’t be destructive,’ Hegemony says, quieter than before. ‘You know that.’

I nestle against her chest. ‘I know.’

She waits a beat, before leaning down and kissing my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks.

‘Take care of yourself, you silly man,’ she murmurs.

I can only hold her tighter against me, and sigh. 

 

• • •

Aeris turned and turned in her host's spacious king-sized bed, unable to find sleep while wrapped up in all that soft cotton that smelt so strongly of its owner – her legs got lost in the silver fox furs that were draped over the bed sheets, hairless white limbs shivering in the midst of such heavenly contact.  
He'd offered her tea, but she'd already been nodding off in the elevator – being as tense as a bowstring for the entire evening had completely knocked her out, and seeing as there was no longer the imminent threat of being kidnapped by the worst of ShinRa, or having to take the night train alone, or any of that, she could finally afford to relax. Then again it was entirely possible that  _he_  was the worst of ShinRa, but his fantastic bed somewhat made up for that.

There was still the same recording of Nocturnes playing that he'd put on upon entering the flat as he took care of his files or whatever he had to do in the living room. The tinkling cascade of notes, sometimes moody, sometimes joyfully  _staccato_ , seeped in through the slightly open bedroom door, lulling her into a half-conscious state of sensory ecstasy – furs around her skin, melancholy melodies in her ears, and an ungodly scent of manliness that was just _amazing_ … and… she didn't have to wait for him, he'd probably sleep in the couch like the good gentleman that he was and… yes.

A slightly agitated moment in the music jarred her from doziness to a slightly more conscious state of mind, and she had enough grasp on the waking world to notice that she was no longer alone in the master bedroom. She tried to follow the movements with half-open eyes; a shaft of light from the living room fell on Sephiroth's figure as he moved as silently as a cat around the bed. She felt the mattress sink slightly as he sat on the opposite edge, and when he bent over to unlace his boots, she groggily noted that she could suddenly see the definition of the muscles in his back, following the crag that marked his spine, shoulder-blades shifting like daggers under the skin…

The notion of his sudden shirtlessness didn't even occur to her as she lay there in a daze. He straightened up, silver mane sweeping down to cover the naked expanse of his back, and he seemed to be listening to one of the more plaintive Nocturnes as he sat motionless, head slightly tilted to the side. Then as the notes trailed off, he stood up again, stretching up and almost scraping the ceiling with his fingers.

Aeris was suddenly aware of the fact that she might not be sleeping alone after all. More out of dozy reluctance to share this wonderful space with anyone than out of real modesty, she let out;

‘Weren't you going to sleep on the couch?’

Sephiroth turned towards her so abruptly that she could only assume she'd surprised him.

‘Did I wake you?’ he asked in that quiet voice adopted by the tired, non-judgmental person about to abandon the conscious world.

‘No,’ Aeris sighed. ‘I was never really asleep.’

‘I'm surprised; that bed can cure even the worst insomniac.’

She smiled. ‘I don't doubt that.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Sephiroth added, ‘if you think I'd rather sleep in the couch than bother your saintly sleep, think again. I wouldn't give up sleeping in this bed even if Scarlet was my partner.’

‘Oh…’ She felt somewhat flattered that he was saying she was somehow  _better_ than that absurdly attractive woman. But there was something jerking in her chest; after a minute she realized what she was uncomfortable with. ‘I'm – I'm not exactly decent under here.’

‘There's nothing indecent about the human body,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Besides, you're used to sleeping as Eve, aren't you?’

‘I never literally sleep with my clients,’ she rectified. ‘But whatever the situation I always keep something on to sleep.’

‘Well, I don't,’ the General said simply, before chucking back his side of the covers and sliding in. Aeris froze as she heard this – the General himself, in the nude, right next to her! What – why - instinctively she shifted to the very edge of the bed, trying to stay as further as possible from him so as not to inconvenience him if they came into contact by accident.

He gave an unselfconscious groan of satisfaction as the furs embraced his body, and as he allowed himself more and more space he realized he was almost taking up the entire bed – she felt the mattress sink again as he heaved himself up onto one elbow to look at her.

‘Chimera.’

‘What?’

‘You're balancing on two inches of mattress over there.’

‘I – I don't want to – bother you.’

She could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, ‘I never thought prostitutes could be so prude.’

‘I'm not being  _prude_ ,’ she said, offended as always by that word. ‘I'm being polite.’

He sighed, before slumping down onto his back again, both hands cradling his head. ‘Well, suit yourself then.’

• • •

The crowd of brothel girls seemed to be scaring everyone away from the station. All of them were in jeans and big jumpers or overcoats, but apparently men had a flair for women of those professions and were staring at them as though they'd spurted out from a crack in the ground, demons having escaped their hellhole. And the metaphor wasn't entirely lost on them, since they were literally waiting for the train that would take them back underground.

Hegemony was having a hard time looking quite as normal as the others with her shaved skull and naturally tall, slim stature. She'd broken away from the main group and was waiting at the gate; when she saw the slight figure slipping out of a cab she strode out to meet her friend, heels knocking boldly against the pavement.

Aeris was only half-conscious of her own body as Hegemony gathered her up in a bone-crushing hug, crying out in relief. She felt so far away from the physical world that it had taken a huge effort to get up at the right time this morning. Even Hegemony was taken aback by the haggard expression on her friend's face; but nothing would deter her apparent determination at worming every single detail of the night out of the girl's mouth.

‘I can't even begin to explain how  _wrong_  it is for you to look like that when you've just had the biggest stroke of luck ever,’ Gem was saying. ‘I mean, nobody gets that close. _Nobody._ ’

Aeris could only smile faintly, so Gem frowned – but it was more fascination than worry. ‘Was he really that rough? Did he last all night or something?’

‘Gem – we didn't – ‘

‘Don't you  _dare_  tell me you had a cup of tea and played cards!" Gem teased her, to which Aeris only smiled tiredly. Gem considered her friend a little more seriously then, taking in the lilac half-moons under those strangely dim eyes, and the cracked pallor of her lips.

‘We didn't have tea,’ Aeris said. ‘He offered, but I was far too tired, and seeing as he'd paid me to shut up all evening it would’ve been weird for him to suddenly want to sit down and have a nice chat.’

Gem laughed at that. ‘Is it possible to have such a thing as a  _nice chat_  with that man?’

’You shouldn't be so quick to judge,’ Aeris started.

‘Neither should you,’ Gem countered her, but then she smiled one of her insolent, lopsided smiles. ‘Then again seeing as you've had much more one-on-one time with him, you're a better authority than me.’

‘One-on-one time,’ Aeris echoed, laughing.

‘So did it get literal, or not?’

‘ _No_ , and stop insisting,’ the former flowergirl pleaded, her gaze wandering over to the gate as the train whistled its way in – when she saw the twenty-odd girls milling around and shooting curious glances at her, she blanched. ‘Oh, Gaia.’

‘Don't worry, I'm the only one who's going to annoy you with questions,’ Gem assured her, snaking a reassuring arm around her shoulders. ‘We're taking the next train down.’

It was then that she remembered owing her friend an amount of about 24 hours of profuse shows of gratitude for the evening they'd passed – she hugged the woman around her waist, mumbling her  _thank you_  against the comfortable bosom where her face had just disappeared.

Gem laughed. ‘Of course, the catch for all this generosity is that  _you_  have to tell me everything.’

Gem let her friend sleep against her shoulder on the way down to Sector 6; once arrived at the station they made their way to the Loveless, Aeris trudging along with a knuckle constantly rising to rub her eyes. Only once they were seated at a comfy booth with tooth-achingly sweet liquor in their hands did Aeris tell her tale.

‘There isn't much to tell, really,’ she said, throat burning with the liquor. ‘Something really strange just happened during the night. He joined me pretty soon after I'd gone to bed – ’

‘Pyjamas or no pyjamas?’ Gem interrupted with a toothy grin – both of them were assaulted by mental images of Sephiroth in baggy, milk-stained PJs, and even Aeris couldn't resist laughing.

‘No pyjamas,’ she assured her. But it was only then that she'd realized it had been a trap.

‘In the nude then! I knew it!’ It was almost a shriek of pure glee – the barmaid and several other regulars turned to glare at them. Gem didn't seem to care though, because she ploughed on; ‘The only thing I can't quite get my head around is how it didn't all spiral down from there.’

‘Look, he was clearly not interested in me at all,’ Aeris tried to explain. ‘And if you'd been in that bed – ’

‘Are you sure you want to go there?’ Gem grinned.

‘The emphasis is on the  _bed_ , not on the prospects of you coming to ruin the peace,’ Aeris grinned back. ‘It had  _silver fox fur_  on it. Honestly, I don't think even sex can keep you from enjoying that.’

‘Oh, I think I know someone who would beg to differ,’ Gem said, kohl eyebrows arching up.

‘Speaking of which, how was your night?’

‘No, no, no – we're focussing on  _you_  right now. Let's have it.’

Aeris took a sip of her almond liquor, ice cubes clinking in her glass as she set it down before beginning.

‘It was really difficult to go to sleep since he was taking up all the space and – well, you have someone like  _that_  sprawled out next to you completely naked, it's kind of impossible to concentrate on sleep. Plus he apparently needs music in order to really relax so we were awake, side by side in all that fur, listening to piano pieces for at least half an hour before he had the decency to ask me if I wanted him to turn it off.

‘So I said, 'Well, if it helps you sleep I don't mind if you keep it on,' but he apparently guessed my real opinion since after a few more minutes he said, 'Music off'. The music died down, and then all I could hear was him breathing, the light from the window bordering the furs as they heaved up and down with his chest. His body heat spread so much that I ended up throwing half the covers off me, it was so hot under there.

‘I was going to sleep, gaining a bit more territory as I turned and shifted. I have to say – his hair gets  _everywhere_. After a while I couldn't even tell what was hair and what was fur; in any case I think he must put perfume in it because the scent was starting to make me feel a bit queasy. I'd just been drifting off but, I don't know if it was the smell, but I really started to feel a bit sick – I sat up, trying to analyse what was causing it. He was lying on the side facing me, clearly asleep since his mouth was slightly open and he was breathing these long, steady breaths. The light made his skin glow and gave his hair a bluish taint – it was a sight to see, such a dangerous man just lying there next to you, trusting you enough to sleep. But the deeper his sleep became, the sicker I felt – it was so strange, something between nausea and asthma, and there was clearly something wrong with my lungs so I got up. It felt like fear, except there was nothing to be frightened of.’

That had been a lie, but Gem wouldn't understand the truth of it. If she started explaining that she'd heard those familiar voices, telling her to run, run,  _run_ , then Gem would just think she'd had some kind of breakdown after such a nerve-racking evening. She was used to lying in order to cover up what others would see as blatant schizophrenia, so she continued without pausing.

‘I went to the living room, trying to make as little noise as possible. I opened one of the windows and tried to breathe, but it seemed like my lungs were actually closing up – ’ The voices had been screaming then, and her heart had never pounded as fast as it did with mindless fear. ‘ - so I panicked. I couldn't breathe, and the panic seemed to make things worse – I actually fell on my knees with my hands on my throat, and there were tears streaming down my face as I tried to breathe. I must've been making a bit of noise since Sephiroth appeared at my side a moment later, crouching next to me, and I didn't even notice what he was doing as he locked me to him with an arm around my shoulders, pried my hands from my throat, and put a hand on the bare skin just above my breasts.

‘‘It's a panic attack,' he told me, 'Just a panic attack.'

‘Then he shot this powerful  _wave_  of energy right through me. My lungs seemed to open up, and I sucked in air like a drowning person breaking surface. I was still panicked about the sensation and how it had practically felt like dying; I was kneeling with my arms hugging my chest, like this, so he stood up again to give me space.

‘'Well, that's certainly not the first time a girl has broken down in my presence,' he said in his usual smug voice, 'But I thought you had a bit of a stronger will than what I'm used to.'

‘'I'm not afraid of you,' I managed to say, and I turned away because I couldn't get rid of the burn in my throat and I had tears welling up.

‘'You're awfully bold,' he said, but there wasn't really much of a threat in his voice. He just sounded tired; and understandably so, since it was around 3am. I started to apologize, but he interrupted me, saying;

‘'I know, you didn't want to bother me. You're the polite whore, and I'm the kind General.' He said it as if he knew it hurt me to call me whore, but expected me to suck it up because that's what I am. Kind of like people calling him General – or kind - insulted him just as much, but he had gotten used to it. It was a bit odd.

‘He gave me the materia he'd used, which he calls  _esuna_ , if I ever had another attack while sleeping next to him. I took it and made to follow him back to the bedroom; and after a little silence he said,

‘'So you're not even going to deny that you know how to wield materia?'

‘’I was taken aback by his astuteness. But I mean, even Genesis had compared my raw skill to him, so I decided it would be useless to say I'd only used the device since they could probably tell the difference. So all I said was, 'Well, you saw me on the stage, right?'

‘He said that yes, he had. If it was intentional, it had been unbelievably sloppy, especially with Hojo in the room. Then he said, ‘Like I told you, it's better to keep your gifts to yourself around that man.'

‘'I'll remember that,' I said. Then we got to the bedroom.

‘He watched me get into the bed before getting in himself, and I felt a bit uncomfortable in that flimsy, practically transparent nightie of mine. I covered myself up in the furs, turning on the side so that I couldn't see him standing there in the corner of my eye.

‘'Still not going to explain?' he asked, and he sounded weirdly amused.

‘So I said, ‘Are you really that interested? I'm only a whore, remember.'’

Gem snorted. Aeris couldn’t help smiling too, before continuing;

‘Yeah, I was a  _little_  bit stung about his comment, and the fact that he wasn't even trying to comfort me. I know I shouldn't have expectations or anything, but still. It was the least he could've done.’

‘You definitely have way too many expectations,’ Gem put in. Aeris nodded before continuing.

‘Maybe. Anyway, he laughed the world's smallest laugh – more like a sharp exhale, really – before shedding the trousers he'd slipped on before coming to my rescue, probably so that he wouldn't have contributed to my attack through nakedness. When we were both back to back, he asked me to remind him how this morning was supposed to go; I told him the details. He told me not to wake him up again, and to take care of myself even if I had to go spit fire in the living room, and that was that. He was still in bed when I left him this morning.’

Gem sat back as Aeris finished her liquor, her mouth dry after reciting the evening's events. The black-eyed woman seemed sceptical.

‘So you have no idea what caused the panic attack?’

’No.’ She was really getting good at lying. But she'd definitely have to analyse why the voices had been so aggressive that time. The only other times she'd had that sensation of viscerally  _needing_  to escape were when the Turks came after her, or when Hojo was near.

‘And you kept the materia?’

Aeris' negation got lost in her glass as she swallowed the last golden drops.

‘ _Why not_?’ Esuna was a rare thing down in the slums; the best medicinal materia they had was the most basic of Cures, and they weren't all that potent. Gem was probably thinking about how much they'd fetch by selling it if Aeris had brought it down; the real worth of the materia, in Aeris' mind, would've become apparent if she'd put it to good use down here in the slum hospitals.

Aeris put down her glass, and stared her friend in the eye. ‘He gave me  _a thousand Gil_ , Gem. A thousand Gil for nothing at all, and a troubled sleep! Would you really want to steal from the guy after that?’

‘That's a decent amount, yeah,’ Gem agreed, but not without a snarky grin. ‘I'm not saying I just made twice that amount with Genesis, but, it's pretty good for a first time up on the Plate.’

‘Hegemony,’ Aeris chastised, returning her smile. ‘Do I even need to say it?’

‘Yeah, yeah, he’s my regular, lucky old me. Still,’ Gem said. ‘Putting aside the attack, that has got to be the dullest night anyone could ever imagine. The girls are going to be devastated.’

‘I think I'll just stop at the point where I get in bed with him stark naked, and leave them all guessing.’ Aeris tried to joke, and Gem indulged her with a laugh.

‘That'd probably be best.’

• • •

There she was, six months in, one of the most respected sex workers in the Bee thanks to how she’d managed to turn the General’s head. There were significantly less instances of the Bee girls whispering about her or shooting her baleful looks; instead, they would smile, move out of her way, even direct customers towards her if they didn’t do the services the customer asked for. Aeris was even more humbled that these she-wolves would go out of their way to be polite to her, than when she’d been chosen by Sephiroth – it was a rare thing, to hold the respect of women who were your direct competition. She reciprocated by bringing potted plants to work for the girls to liven up their rooms, or by curing girls who came across rough clients – and the girls loved her all the more for it.

The attention dwindled after a few weeks when the girls realized she wouldn’t be getting Upperworld contracts every other day. Aeris knew that relationships in this place often started with opportunistic foundations – but the girls were still genuinely sweet towards her. She would go into work with the warm sensation of coming home, sometimes – knowing there’d be no drama from her coworkers to spoil her night. There was, however, one particular drama that she hadn’t resolved yet.

Zack.

For the most part, he stayed out of her way. Which she was grateful for. She would entertain customers in the bar, glimpsing him in his sharp marine-blue threads, and she’d stride pass him without so much as a hello. She’d hold on tight to her client’s hand and feel his eyes on her as they passed each other mutely on the stairs. Or sometimes, she’d be in the showers and she’d hear him come in – he always whistled the same tune (that she now found obnoxious), so she’d know it was him. There’d be the flump of his bag on the sinks, the squeak of the shower faucets being turned on. She would get out, wrap herself up in a towel, and if he happened to get out at the same time they would glance at each other in the mirrors and remain icily silent. She’d do her makeup, and he would rake gel into his hair. And then both of them would get back to work, bowing their heads.

Zack came to her church one day. By then, she’d mulled over their disastrous sleepover enough times to not chuck him out straight away.  He eased down on one of the pews that wasn’t broken, placing his training sword next to him with a metallic clatter. He’d waited, arms coming up to casually cradle his head. Aeris had continued to relocate the weeds she’d found growing around the Bee, patting healthy soil over them. It was a disaster – everywhere she went, the soil seemed to grow potent, as though the Planet were rejoicing in every step she took further from home. Her window at the Bee was about to be pushed out by the amount of moss that had grown around its frame.

She dusted her hands on the beige apron she was wearing, sliding her trough back into one of the deep pockets she’d sewn on it. Then she turned, decidedly not looking at Zack as she walked towards his pew. He looked up at one of the stained glass windows that hadn’t been shattered. She sat down next to him on the pew with a sigh, then busied herself with tucking stray strands of hair back into her braid.

‘So… heard you landed yourself a pretty big fish,’ Zack ventured.

Aeris smirked. ‘Gem tell you about it?’

‘Nah, just the other girls,’ Zack said. ‘The Bee is always buzzing with gossip, but that particular tale’s been kept up for ages now. Probably been distorted with all the things the girls fantasize about doing with the General themselves.’

Aeris glanced at him, blushing just a little. ‘Oh? Distorted how?’

Zack gave her one of his cool looks, eyebrows raised. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Stuff about how apparently… he has a long enough tackle to go land some fish of his own – ’

Aeris snorted.

‘One girl’s swearing by twelve inches.’

‘Gaia beneath us.’

‘Yeah, that’s gotta hurt,’ Zack said with a wince. ‘There’s also this legend about how he’s a bit of a… leatherboy.’

‘A _what_?’

‘You know. Like Rude.’ Zack looked at her very seriously while she spluttered into her hands. ‘Hey, I mean with that military attire of his I wouldn’t exactly be _shocked_.’

‘He would probably book Gem if he was into that.’

‘One I’m particularly curious about is that he has a thing about hair,’ Zack added. ‘He would’ve apparently booked you to tie his hair up in all sorts of braids, and then hook them around so that whenever he moves, he’s getting his hair pulled – ’

‘Who _thinks_ of these things?’ Aeris said. ‘Crisis. Before working at the Bee I thought sex was just so simple. So with all of that, the girls are insinuating that I can a. take a twelve inch penis and b. stick someone in a leather suit without getting kicked out for giggling too much and c. – braid the bloody _Demon of Wutai’s_ hair without getting my arms sliced off.’

‘I’m not saying I believe them, but as there’s no gospel truth to invalidate what everyone’s saying…’

Aeris sighed, turned around, and gave the briefest possible version of events to him. He nodded all throughout, and when she was done, he nodded gravely.

‘Disappointing, Aeris. Disappointing.’

‘You should be happy for me that my crotch hasn’t been split up to my throat,’ Aeris said, and Zack spluttered again. ‘Twelve inches. Pff.’

‘Trust me, I’ve seen what he’s like in the showers,’ Zack said. ‘But, you know. I didn’t want to dash the girls’ hopes.’

‘You’ve seen what he’s like in the _showers_ , hmm?’ Aeris said with a coy smile, giving Zack a nudge, and Zack tried to persuade her that he didn’t mean in _that_ way while she laughed at him. Once she’d calmed down, he was looking at her, his smile becoming more tender than teasing.

‘I’ve missed you, Issy,’ he said, and she twisted her mouth to stop from grinning back at him.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she said, and then he’d leaned towards her and wrapped her up in his arms, snuggling into her neck. She hugged him around his shoulders, metal pauldron sticking coldly to her skin.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled against her ear. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve – ’

‘Shut up,’ she said, laughing with giddiness as she felt the weight in her chest lifting. ‘It’s fine. It’s been ages now. You’re fine.’

She heard him give an odd hiccup of laughter, and his arms squeezed her tighter. Then he let her go, and their hands joined in their laps as they separated.

‘I was afraid that this job might fuck us up,’ Zack said. ‘I didn’t think I’d be the one to start creating problems, though.’

‘It’s been a very confusing six months,’ Aeris commiserated.

‘Yeah.’

‘And it’s been… so quiet at the Bee, without you bursting in on me every five minutes,’ she added. ‘Elmyra’s been wondering why I’m always ‘going to your place’ and you’re never coming back to mine.’

‘Oh, that’s why you want to make up, is it?’ Zack said, pretending offense. ‘Just to get your alibi back?’

‘Yeah, I’m cold-hearted like that, of course,’ Aeris railed him. Then it was her turn to look at him tenderly, a hopeful spark in her eye. ‘Zack… you’re my friend, right?’

His hands tightened on hers. ‘Of course.’

‘Good. Because I need you to be my friend,’ Aeris said. ‘I didn’t think I could cope for much longer with us stalking around being mad at each other.’

Zack made a strangled sort of noise as he smiled at her, then he reached for her again and wrapped her up against the ribbed wool of his jumper. She wheezed out all the breath in her lungs as he squeezed her against him.

‘I’ll be whatever you need me to be, I promise,’ he said in her ear, and she smiled, heart thumping with relief as she held onto his leather suspenders.

• • •

 

‘Now, swallow.’

Aeris tried to, but the smoke burned her throat so badly that she coughed it all up, hugging her belly as her entire torso jerked. Zack laughed, taking the cigarette from her, fingers pinching the carved-ivory cigarette holder. They were sitting on her bed at the Bee, facing one another.

‘If you're going to be attending rich parties, you've got to know the  _basics_  of elegance.’

‘I still don't see why I have to smoke,’ Aeris wheezed. ‘It's disgusting!’

‘The visual side of it is far from disgusting. It's a ritual,’ Zack smiled, always happy to act the mentor. ‘Just like with tea, and absinthe, and opium, and…’

‘Why can't I just stick to tea?’ Aeris interrupted, and Zack laughed.

‘Versatility isn't only limited to sex,’ he reminded her, and she rolled her eyes.

‘So what about syringes and lines?’ she said. ‘You're not going to tell me  _that's_  elegant.’

‘Definitely not,’ Zack agreed. ‘The goal is to stay ladylike, not to go snorting and stabbing.’

Aeris finally afforded him a smile. ‘What would I do if I didn't have  _you_  to teach me how to be a lady?’

‘Oi,’ he mock-reprimanded her. ‘No making fun of the teacher.’ He handed her the cigarette, and grinned at her expression of utter horror. ‘Again!’

One of Zack’s many uses was his excellent knowledge of all things worldly, as well as his skill as a mentor. He watched as she let the flesh of her lips stick to the ivory; the glistening red peeled away as she finished inhaling, and there was a slight bump in her throat as she swallowed the smoke. Then, she held her breath a bit too long – her lips parted calmly enough to let the smoke escape, but then a moment later she'd doubled over with coughs again.

‘You were there!’ Zack laughed, patting her back. He was about to give her more advice but he was interrupted by the bell on the wall, calling Aeris to attention.

‘I've got to go,’ she said, her eyes still squinting through the pain as she handed him the fag, kissed him on the cheek and got up all in one movement. She was out of the door before he could even open his mouth - but there was a pleasant wetness on his cheek, so he was content to smile to himself and finish smoking, cross-legged on her bed.

Aeris made her way out and down the corridor towards the office. She encountered Gem on her way down the stairs – apparently they'd been summoned together. A sentiment of foreboding clunked into her stomach as she noticed this; if it was only the two of them, who else would it be other than Genesis?

Her friend grinned – they'd had the same thought. ‘Got your pepper spray?’

‘Does it even affect the First Class?’

’I have no idea,’ Gem laughed, linking her arm as they came to the office door. ‘Guess we'll just have to find out.’

Boss stood up as they came in. He winked at Aeris – he'd put on a blatant show of favouritism since the success of Scarlet's party, giving her room a complete make-over during one of her days off and always having a smile ready when she checked in. Gem only rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips.

‘So what's up?’ she said.

‘The President's son is having a grand party for his birthday. It involves gambling, mostly in the form of card games and the like. It seems your regular, Hegemony, is hiring both of you to act as beautiful distractions.’

‘Both of us?’ she snorted, as if the idea was just silly. ‘He's starting to get greedy, isn't he?’

‘I believe he's hiring our Chimera for his illustrious friend, who'll also be attending.’

‘Oh...’ Aeris blanched a little. It had been difficult enough to get over the first encounter with that man – but a second night of being intimidated and ridiculed, all for the obscure pleasure of that master manipulator, didn't exactly sound good.

As if reading her thoughts, Boss gave her the incentive she was looking for;

‘Five thousand Gil for the night. Each.’

‘What?’ Gem exploded. ‘Is he planning to have us both afterwards?’

"No, Gem. Like I said. You are for him, and Chimera is for his friend. He’s probably just splurging because he hasn’t seen you in a while, you know how he is.’

Both the Boss and Aeris were looking at her with a queer glimmer in their eyes, as if they'd interpreted her attitude as plain jealousy that her regular would deign consider someone else to add to his sex life. As if to dispel the impression, she shook out her mane and said, ‘I thought so. When is it?’

‘Tomorrow night. Just to move things forward, I've had the audacity of buying you a little something,’ Boss added, giving Aeris a smile. Gem looked on with wide eyes as the man took up a freshly pressed garment from the back of his seat; it was a lilac dress, sleeveless and practically transparent but for the incorporated corset where silver brocade covered the entire chest down to the crotch. The light material hung from the hips down in long, fluttering panels. There were strings of silver beads and coins at every parting, so there would be a tinkle of metal whenever the legs peaked out.

‘Oh, you shouldn't have,’ Gem said with an ironic grin, as Aeris went from white to red in a millisecond.

‘Quit nagging, it's not your style anyway,’ Boss reprimanded, handing the dress to Aeris who couldn't take her eyes off it. ‘I bought it with my share of your allowance, so that perhaps you might continue to entice your new client as efficiently.’

‘I- I – ’ She'd told him what had happened in brief terms, and apparently he was even more eager than his workers to see her make an even more outrageous breakthrough with the man. When would they understand that it was just impossible to - ? Aeris sighed, hugging the dress against her. She'd just have to give it her best – and at any rate, it was Genesis paying this time. Whatever  _he_  was up to.

‘Tomorrow night, girls. I expect success.’

• • •


	6. Chapter 6

‘Seems like it’ll be a good month,’ the Soldier grunt said as he flipped his calendar to November.

‘I thought pin-ups were a thing of the past?’ his bunk mate said, giving his helmet a playful knock before climbing into his own bed.

‘Pin-ups will _never_ be a thing of the past,’ the first grunt affirmed. He pinned his calendar to the wall with a smug grin. There was such an absence of pretty young women in their Rocket Town outpost that it was good to see a little flesh. It reminded him of home, of the woman who was waiting for him, the typical Midgarian she-wolf who wasn’t afraid of a little immorality. He lovingly flattened the corners of his calendar with his palm.

The wall was trembling.

Hand stuck to the wall, feeling the vibrations, the grunt looked around the dormitory of the ShinRa base. All his comrades were already tucked in, most of them snoring away, limbs hanging off of every ledge. The vibrations were getting deeper – the grunt edged towards his ladder slowly, head poking out to look into the corridor ahead. There were the usual evening noises coming from the common room, but they were getting softer and softer as everyone retired for the night except the guards.

‘What…’

In the second that followed, lightning seemed to shred his vision to pieces – blinding white seared into his skull, and the shriek of explosions tore into his ears. The walls caved in, and the very atoms that constituted reality seemed to shrink towards a far-off impact point, scuttling away from his groping fingers as he was propelled from his bed.  
Limbs and blood and wide, white eyes filled every corner of his vision and the earth met his body with a shattering crush, steel arms hugging his body as the beds were torn from the walls and warped out of shape. But the arms were too tight, and they broke him, crushing his ribs in twos and threes, and if he’d remembered to breathe they would’ve speared through his lungs.

There were yelled commands but the heat seemed to love his body too much, and it was pushing him down, crushing him until the Planet seemed to be opening up to admit him into her bowels. The yells were getting louder and louder, but they kept getting cut through by shrill missiles ripping through gravity - he couldn’t understand anything – the numbness had transformed him into a spectator of his own death, and before long the sounds and visions all morphed into one great white cataclysm that mercilessly sucked him in.   

 

**• • •**

 

‘Ladies.’

 

Aeris let Hegemony precede her as they entered the grand salon after showing their invitations to the guards. They were in Rufus Shinra’s private establishment; the towering baroque façade of the building had taken the slum girls’ breath away as they’d been chauffeured into the parking lot. Cracked stone faces leered over each window, weathered into hellish grimaces, and the dark clutter of the night sky reflected in each unlit window.  It looked like an ancient convent of sorts that the president’s son had repurposed into a proper residence.

‘Darling – try not to look like you’re pissing yourself. We’re used to this, we’re professionals,’ Gem had told her colleague, seeing how Aeris couldn’t stop gaping and looking around herself.

‘What, do you really think they’ll believe we’re deluxe escorts who do this every other night?’

‘Of course they will,’ Gem had assured her. ‘At least, if you stop looking around yourself like a schizo on the run. And stop touching the fur.’

Always the good-natured friend, Hegemony had lent her a pearl-grey cape with a trim of soft white rabbit fur hugging the shoulders, something she’d acquired thanks to the generosity of an old client. She deemed it more important for Aeris to steal everyone’s attention tonight, and besides, she didn’t look half bad herself in that flattering backless number of hers that had won her so many men, so it wasn’t sacrificing much. Her hair was rather tamer than usual, curled artfully around her skull and fastened with sparkling pins, the back tumbling straight down her spine; and her face was rather modest too, seeing what company they’d be keeping; a plump rouge on her lips, and downright minimalism around the eyes. Aeris had almost started upon seeing her friend’s real eyes when they’d finished getting ready. The older woman had ended up doing Aeris’ face up for her since the poor girl had no clue on how to look for such an occasion, and had insisted on applying make-up like a toddler applies jam.

‘Keep it on,’ Gem whispered to her as they walked into the salon behind two elegantly dressed couples; Aeris had been unfastening her cloak, so with a confused glance at her friend she clipped the thin chain back into place. ‘You need Sephiroth to see you in full attire. That’s bloody Janpingu fur from the Northern Continent, that is.’

‘Does he know I’m coming?’

Gem was putting on her professional haughtiness, looking around at the salon as if it didn’t impress her at all. ‘No idea,’ she answered. ‘Fucking hell. Look at the _size_ of this place!’

Her lips hardly moved as she spoke, as if she didn’t want to betray her wonder. Aeris took in the pure luxury of the gambling salon: the low ceiling was dripping with crystals and faerie lights; polished wood-and-gold bannisters cut the vast place into sections, and burgundy carpets adorned the pathways that their heels sank into as they walked. There was a bar to their left, along with many round tables where people were milling; there were those indulging in card games, others playing at the numerous pool tables, others still just having drinks and guffawing loudly, bellies straining against the gold buttons of their expensive tailored suits.

‘Chime,’ Gem hissed as she took her friend’s hand. ‘Close your mouth.’

‘Sorry!’

‘And don’t even think about picking anyone’s pockets.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about that at all,’ Aeris protested, appalled at the idea.

‘I was,’ Gem said with a blood red grin.

Aeris trailed after her, trying to look as womanly as she could when they accosted a couple on their way to the bar. The man looked as though the sight of her was almost painful. His eyes kept slipping away from Gem to look her up and down again as Gem asked him where they could find the First Class men.  

When they were on their way again Aeris couldn’t help tugging at her cloak and muttering, ‘I must look like a mouse wearing Red Dragon scales.’

‘Chime. You look like the Goddess incarnate. Now shut up and practice your poker cards.’

Gem kept stopping to nod and smile and greet the women they encountered. Some seemed to share such complicity with her that Aeris couldn’t help wondering if they were hired workers, too, but from above the plate. She suddenly felt like some kind of secret agent, having to hide her base origins under the glitter so that these people might deign to take her into consideration. They were heading towards the raised dais where poker games were being played; Aeris caught a glimpse of white hair, but their attention was diverted by two men in velvet-tipped suits.

‘Ms. Hegemony, I take it?’

‘Yes?’ Gem came to a hesitant halt and looked down at the speaker. He seemed to be around his 50s, with greyish pockmarked skin, and Aeris couldn’t decide whether he had a glass eye or just an alignment problem. His sidekick was considerably younger, smiling at them both like a perfect gentleman.

‘From the Deenglow?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have that pleasure,’ Gem answered smoothly. Aeris guessed that the Deenglow must be one of those proper luxurious brothels that supplied women to this type of party; it was almost flattering that a rich stranger would come to such a conclusion upon seeing them.

‘Independent then?’ the man went on.

‘Why the interest?’ Gem smiled.

‘I’m Markus Delaine,’ the man said with a leering grimace that was probably intended as a smile. ‘I happen to run half the city’s pleasure establishments. If you’re interested, I could offer you a great deal of privileges that you probably don’t have, in your current situation.’

‘I think we’re doing quite well enough for ourselves already, aren’t we love?’ Gem smiled down at Aeris, trying to dispel the formality of the conversation. It was hard to see how tense her friend really was; but Aeris had still decided to let her run the show as usual, not knowing what on the Planet she could possibly say to help. She attempted to smile and trailed a hand down her fur to enforce Gem’s point.

‘That you are,’ Delaine agreed. ‘But every lady knows that there’s much more wealth and connections to be made with a little professional help.’

‘I’m afraid I already have an employer, Mr Delaine,’ Gem informed him with a look of playful disappointment. ‘I’m a brothel girl.’

‘Ah. May I ask which?’

Aeris watched as she hesitated to reveal their origins. So their Boss was well-connected, and more of a humanitarian than a pimp in his professional philosophy – but the location was what made their reputation, sadly, and they _were_ supposed to be keeping quiet as glitter-covered sewer rats. At the same time, as Aeris looked at Gem’s scintillating, expensive-looking outfit and her professional poise, she realized the woman had clearly come a long way. It would be understandable for her to want to consider someone else’s offer. Aeris was reminded of Harmony mentioning that there were different ways to get out of the slums than being bought – and no wonder Boss kept quiet about them, if it would mean losing his best workers to Upperworld establishments.

‘We’re from the Honey Bee, in Sector 6,’ Hegemony admitted, holding her head up as if in defiance to the consequent judgment that Delaine would make.

The man looked practically gobsmacked. ‘Well. I certainly wasn’t expecting that. The ShinRa elite hire slum girls, now?’

‘Hardly believable, I know,’ Hegemony said coldly. ‘Now if you’ll excuse us – ‘

‘Wait.’ Mr Delaine whipped out a shiny card from his inside pocket, handing it to Hegemony with a smile. ‘I meant no offense. In fact I’d be very happy to meet your manager.’

Aeris was suddenly aware of someone coming towards them in her peripheral vision; she looked around as Hegemony took the card, and almost didn’t recognize Genesis in his white shirt and crisp suit trousers. He winked at her as he approached, then called out,

‘Delaying our goods as always, Markus?’

Both girls glanced at each other, inwardly raging at being called “goods”.  

‘I’m merely making conversation,’ Delaine indulged the First Class.

‘Conversation, my ass.’

‘I take it you’re still losing then, Mr Rhapsodos?’

‘The game’s only been going for 30 minutes. And everyone knows I play hard.’

‘You play reckless, Genesis,’ Gem said, and he smiled adoringly at her. Aeris stepped back to give him room as he slid a hand down Hegemony’s naked back, and leaned in so they could kiss each other on the cheek. The move seemed blatantly territorial.

Gem turned back to Delaine, unruffled as always. ‘Shall I tell him to call then?’

‘I’d be very much obliged if you did that, yes. Thank you.’

‘You can’t have the whole city, you know,’ Genesis said. He glanced over at Aeris before adding, ‘Some treasures are best kept hidden.’

“That’s your opinion, my good friend,’ said Delaine.

‘I’m about as much your _friend_ and these ladies are your workers, Delaine. Stop pushing it.’  

‘Good luck with the game, sir,’ Delaine said with a small nod, ignoring the goad since he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. He bowed at the girls, and headed off down the pathway.

‘Why don’t you hire yourself out next time?’ Genesis shouted after him. He shook his head as he glared at the retreating figure, then turned back to the girls and led them towards the poker tables, his hand placed on the small of Hegemony’s back in an intimate claim. Aeris looked down at her feet as she walked, getting the distinct impression that she was third-wheeling them.

‘Did you take his card?’ he asked Gem.

‘Of course I did. I’d be an idiot to turn down potential offers like that.’

Genesis _tch_ ed disapprovingly. ‘That guy is a complete crook. The sheer amount of money he’s made off of honest women’s backs just kills me. And it’s not the only domain he runs,’ he told them. ‘He’s in charge of a number of illegal importations that everybody wants to run. If you ask me, it’s better for you to steer clear of him.’

‘Yes, well, we _didn’t_ ask you, did we?’ Gem said with a small smile. ‘Thanks for the _honest women_ statement, as well. That really warmed my heart.’

‘Hegemony,’ Genesis said with a stern look. ‘I’m serious.’

‘You know I always try to find out a man’s background before considering his offer.’

‘Oh? Did you check mine?’

Gem smiled. ‘I had to be instinctual about that. There are all sorts of twisted rumors about you.’

‘I expected as much,’ Genesis laughed, before finally including Aeris in the conversation; ‘I’m glad our Chimera has such a good teacher.’

Aeris didn’t have the time to reply; they’d come to the master table, and she couldn’t help noticing how the chatter seemed to be coming from everywhere except there: every eye seemed to be on the three of them as they approached. She could feel the heat rising to her face as she saw the man with the blonde quiff of hair, the one in the immaculate white blazer who was watching her with such intensity that she had to look away – except her eyes fell on Sephiroth, who was the next irresistible eye-magnet sitting at the table. His elbows were on the table, one hand cradling his face as he’d apparently been puzzling out his next move before being interrupted by her arrival.

‘Ah!’ cried out a black-haired ShinRa executive who was off on the side. ‘We certainly needed more ladies at the table. Thank you, Genesis.’

Gem smirked, while Aeris ripped her gaze away from Sephiroth’s in order to realize that there were giggling women at everyone’s side, leaning over them or standing to watch the game and chattering among themselves.

‘There’s never enough,’ Genesis said. Hegemony went to stand by Genesis’ empty chair while the redhead looked down at his pretty little pawn and smiled a devil’s smile. ‘Let me take that for you.’

Blushing furiously, Aeris tried to lower her face so that her curls would hide her cheeks from view. She slowly unclasped the silver chain, letting the pearl-grey fabric slide from her bare shoulders in a liquid motion, throat becoming apparent as the fur was swept to the side. Genesis took it from her, and went to hang it up nearby.

‘Eyes on the table, Sephiroth,’ jested one of the players – there were ten in total, most of them observing his behaviour or turning to their own female attractions as they waited for Sephiroth to decide.

Sephiroth, of course, didn’t comply. The blushing object of his attention found that she couldn’t even look in his direction, so she kept her head down and made her way over to him.

‘Red suits you,’ he remarked coolly, surely about her current skin colour. She managed a shy smile as she came up to him, and while everyone wondered as to the ambiguity of his statement, he brought down his hand and scattered ten golden chips.  
‘Raise.’

‘One hundred thousand Gil,’ Rufus Shinra stated. ‘Your turn to act, Reeve.’

Aeris started. _One hundred thousand?_ She was already trembling as she approached the man, but the game served as a reminder of just how far away these people were from the world she knew – a world in which such sums wouldn’t be gambled away for no other reason than base stimulation. Two richly dressed women glared at her as they ceded their place behind Sephiroth, wandering down towards the bar and whispering angrily – Aeris tried hard not to gloat as she slid her fingers over the back of her client’s chair.     

Reeve sighed at Sephiroth’s right, scratching his thick black locks. ‘You’re a bastard, you know that?’ he said, before taking his two cards and handing them back to Rufus. ‘I completely and utterly fold.’

‘Not so strong-willed now are we?’ Rufus smiled as he put the cards at the bottom of the deck. Aeris watched as this impossibly important public figure casually plucked a few chips from his stacks, slicked back a strand of hair and placed his chips on the table. ‘I call.’    

The rest of the players either folded or followed Sephiroth’s raise, none willing to raise more while the fourth card wasn’t displayed yet. While they consecutively took their decisions, the silver-haired man turned in his chair and looked up at his distraction.

‘Have you been sleeping better?’

‘Not if I’d known how much money’s at stake here,’ Aeris couldn’t help saying, to which he actually afforded her a smile. He seemed relaxed, confident, as if he were sure of winning. She eyed the others’ stacks of chips and noticed that he seemed to be a lucky streak – his own stacks were high and glittering with wealth. ‘What will you do with the money if you win?’

‘Well, I’ll give it to you, I suppose,’ he said. ‘So that you can continue to amaze me with your transformations.’

Aeris could hardly believe what she was hearing. He’d been so cold to her last time – it had to be for the sake of the game, to make the others confused about the fact that _the_ Sephiroth was showing a rare sexual side in public.

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Give me one hundred thousand and I’ll go and _buy_ _dresses_.’

‘Don’t pretend you aren’t cut from the same selfish cloth as all the other women here,’ he baritoned, leaning back so that she had a clear view of his naked chest through the unbuttoned parting in his shirt. He was acting as wantonly as a Bee boy, so she could no longer believe that any part of it was other than an act. So she played along, heart pounding.

‘I may be selfish about other things than clothes,’ she said. ‘You’ll find I’m an exclusive kind of girl.’

‘Possessive of me, are we?’ Sephiroth practically purred.

‘Deal,’ Rufus stated, tucking a card under the deck and drawing out the fourth and last card, which he slid over to the other three cards face-down. ‘Ready, gentlemen?’

‘Don’t be a cock, Rufus,’ said the only woman at the table. ‘Just show us the bloody card.’

‘Always so charming,’ Rufus said. ‘I’m President Shinra’s son, I can be a cock if it pleases me.’

‘Does being the President’s son also account for the talent of losing so much money?’ Sephiroth said, to which a few people around the table laughed.

‘I thought we weren’t going to talk about the military cuts,’ Rufus all but whined. ‘Please don’t start on the military cuts. It’s my birthday.’

‘It may be your birthday but _I_ want to talk about that too,’ a scar-faced man stated gravely from across the table. ‘Depriving good men of their offices, delaying the bonus allowance for the Soldiers returned from Wutai, and for what? It’s an outrage.’ Aeris noticed the two First Class men sharing a look of utter exasperation at this point. ‘The person who wins should donate the money to a charity for the President: _The Upper Class’s Hand in President Shinra’s Debts.’_

‘No, they should donate it to the Turks so that they might include a course on _International Economy for Idiots_ in their study program,’ Rufus shot back, to which the ruggedly handsome man grinned.

Genesis leaned forward; ‘You mean, _How to See Clearly through the Linguistic Wank of Legal Vocabulary.’_ Most of the players laughed, and Rufus practically slammed the fourth card down on the table.

‘Queen of fucking Diamonds, gentlemen,’ he interrupted them, before sitting back down and slicking back his hair.  

‘Something wrong, Veld?’ Sephiroth murmured, his face betraying nothing.

The man in question, the one with the scar, glanced over at Sephiroth. ‘Don’t pretend to be able to read me, boy.’

‘Ooh, harsh.’ Genesis grinned in Sephiroth’s direction, who arched an eyebrow in a perfect show of indifference. 

‘You’re the only boy I see here, Gen,’ he drawled. ‘Folding at the second round.’

‘Speaking of which, why doesn’t the big blind with the tiny cock go get us some drinks?’ Rufus barked.

‘You need to stop talking about cocks, my good man,’ Genesis said with feigned sadness, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.

‘I’ll order for you all, I’m sick of this game,’ Reeve declared, standing up.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Aeris said, eager to get away from all the political banter that was making her ignorance painstakingly obvious. The men looked up at her appreciatively, and starting stating the cocktails they wanted; once she’d gotten her head around a few of the names, she leaned over her client’s chair to ask what he wanted.

‘Whatever you feel is right,’ was all he said, eyes staying on the table.

’Don’t you have any limit?’

His lips curled into a grin. ‘Just don’t get me any Laudanum.’

‘They serve that here?’

‘You’re getting ideas, aren’t you?’

Reeve offered her an arm and she smiled up at him as she took it, following him down the steps. The bar was on the other side of the room, so she tried to think about what she could get for her unnaturally friendly client.   

‘You seem like a lovely girl,’ Reeve said as soon as their feet had sunk into the carpet. ‘How on the Planet did you ever get mixed up with _that_ lot?’

‘Oh, it’s a long story. You don’t feel like you’re a part of them?’ She was only striking up conversation, but she’d genuinely felt like there was a certain simplicity to this man that wasn’t apparent in the others.

‘I certainly don’t,’ Reeve laughed. ‘To tell you the truth I wouldn’t even be here if Rufus hadn’t given me an extension, ‘out of friendship’. I’m not very good at gambling.’

‘Yet you still have to blend in,’ Aeris smiled at him, happy to have made him laugh.

‘Oh yes,’ Reeve agreed gravely. ‘With ShinRa you blend in at the expense of your soul.’

She smiled, and they continued on to the bar, Reeve nodding at people every now and then. Aeris tried to do the same even though she knew strictly no one, just to seem worldly enough to be on this man’s arm.

They returned with a plate full of drinks each; and when Aeris proudly set down the foggy green drink at Sephiroth’s side, he looked up at her in genuine confusion.

‘I thought we said no poisonous beverages?’

‘It’s not poisonous,’ she assured him. ‘Apart from its alcohol content, maybe.’

His pale eyes narrowed on the glass. ‘How much?’

‘Eighty percent.’

 _‘What?’_ Rufus exploded upon hearing this. ‘I don’t even think it’s allowed to keep gambling while intoxicated. I appreciate the effort, miss, but you can’t just knock him out in my favour.’

‘The girl doesn’t favour _you_ , Rufus,’ Sephiroth countered. ‘She knows I can handle this kind of thing.’ Chest puffing up with pride, Aeris watched nervously as the man’s sleek fingers plucked the glass up by its crystal stem, lips embracing the rim and taking a sip. He swallowed calmly under Rufus and Genesis’ scrutiny, Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes still heavy-lidded with indifference.

‘Say something,’ Rufus demanded, and the silver-haired man waited a little before opening his mouth – he managed to wheeze out “it’s good” and promptly broke into a coughing fit. The men around the table jeered at him, slapping their hands on the gambling mat.

‘The girl who brought down a General,’ Genesis soliloquized as he got up and went over to his friend to slap him on the back.

‘ _That’s – not – helping,’_ Sephiroth coughed out as the redhead pounded his back. He turned in his chair as quick as a snake and made a grab at the redhead’s wrist, but the man danced playfully out of his reach – in doing so he knocked into Aeris, who had gotten caught up in the hilarity and grabbed him around the chest to try and stabilize him for her client’s better use.

‘Traitor!’ Genesis cried as he pretended to be unable to unlock her hands. Sephiroth got up in a majestic sweep of black and white, and turned to his friend.

‘I think you should have a taste,’ he said, taking the absinthe and bringing it to Genesis’ face, who’d gone from playful to slightly worried. ‘You always follow me when it comes to dangerous substances after all.’

‘I always follow you, yes. More than you follow me.’

‘That’s what makes us different. You have moments of pure insanity, while I actually take the time to think.’

‘Alright,’ Rufus broke in, clapping his hands. ‘Can we be men for a second? If that’s not too much to ask? It’s your turn, Sephiroth.’

‘Raise,’ the silver said over his shoulder without even looking at the table.

‘Someone’s confident,’ Genesis sneered.

‘Indeed.’

The redhead took the glass from him in a little jerk of the wrist.

‘Let’s see what the little hero is made of then. Cheers!’ Genesis lifted the glass towards the others. His free hand came to settle on Aeris’ like he needed encouragement for what he was about to do. Then, he promptly chucked back the entire glass – his eyes squeezed shut in the effort, and the poker table came alive with pounding fists and yelled encouragements as he gulped the neurotoxic liquid down.

‘An entire wineglass of the strongest absinthe in Midgar, gentlemen!’ Rufus roared. ‘I think we need new posters for our Soldier enlistment program – Sephiroth, you might as well start packing your bags.’

Aeris let the redhead go as he held out a demonstrative hand and finished the drink amidst thunderous applause. He put the glass on the table, eyes squeezed shut as the drink went down – and he stumbled to the side, shoulder smacking into Sephiroth’s chest. With a grunt of effort the silver-haired man supported him, putting an arm around him to hold him up.

‘That’s what you’d like, isn’t it,’ he muttered. Genesis’ expression was unreadable as he pushed against his old friend’s chest, freeing himself from the man’s grip.

‘Get off me,’ he hissed, before straightening his dinner jacket and bowing to acknowledge the players’ applause. ‘Thank you, thank you.’

The game went on. Aeris could’ve been a figure in the sculpted wood of Sephiroth’s chair for all the attention he gave her; he won the round, and another round began, including those who had folded before. The first card fell, then the second – a few players folded – and the third card fell. Still no sign of her client acknowledging her existence; it seemed the tension between the two First Class was sparking so violently that all distraction had been forgotten or deemed as unimportant. So since she felt it was her duty to recover the precious attention he’d allowed her before, Aeris took a few minutes to convince herself of a plan of action; she went over to the pegs and picked the cigarette packet that Zack had given her from her cape pocket, coming back to the table with it and a pack of matches. She’d practiced enough, it should be alright. She tried to ignore the silence of the table and the other girls staring at her as she struck a match, delicately lighting the fag as it hung from her lips. The smoke tasted of sugar – and perhaps it was thanks to the taste that she found it suddenly easier to inhale. She mentally noted to thank Zack later for this little piece of genius.

She nonchalantly stepped around Sephiroth’s chair and blew a cloud of sugary smoke, watching as it dissipated and drifted into his hair. She stood by his side, just outside his field of vision, white tendrils escaping her mouth as she pretended to watch the game. She could feel Genesis staring at her as the bets went around the table, though her intended target still seemed aggravatingly oblivious to her presence. And then, after a few more exhales… he turned his head to the side.

‘Give me one of those.’

She tried to think of how Gem would respond, and smiled. ‘Say please.’

He looked up slowly, watching her through the haze and not even blinking as the acrid cloud enveloped him. Her heart was threatening to give out – oh, she was in trouble. His eyes were such a curious shade; turquoise speckled with copper. But she stared for a second too long – before she could react, he’d grasped her wrist and abruptly pulled her forwards. She turned at the last minute and fell unceremoniously into his lap. Heart racing, she pushed away from his chest, mortified at having collapsed against him – there were all these people around the goddamn table, what was he doing? What on the Planet – then she realized just how close his face was to hers, so she kept her eyes down to avoid entering even more intimate territory. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

His fingers released her wrist, sought out the cigarette packet that was in her hand, flicked it open and slid a cigarette out. There was heat spreading in her lower belly as he hooked it in his mouth – then he plucked her own lit cigarette from her fingers and lifted it up for her.

‘Please,’ he murmured.

She took the cigarette between her lips, trying desperately to remember what Zack had taught her about this part – she was in Sephiroth’s _lap –_ no, no. Focus. She twisted around to face him, and angled the tip of her cigarette against his. He kept his eyes mercifully down as she inhaled, concentrating on not coughing as the embers spread heat to the unlit paper. After a few more tries the other cigarette was lit – and Sephiroth leaned back in his chair, mouth open as milky smoke poured out of his lungs. She felt his legs shift under hers – she tensed, thinking it was her cue to get up. But his free hand slid down onto her thigh, a silent order to stay.

She couldn’t breathe. His hand felt hot and heavy – and it was _on her thigh_ –  but it was an act, all just an act. She tried to smile, not knowing whether she wanted him to slide that hand right up between her thighs or if she should rather give him a good hard slap. It was when she saw how he was staring straight at Genesis that it finally hit home, that it was all just to destabilize the others, so she focused on her cigarette to calm down.

She could feel her pulse pounding at the apex between her thighs as his fingers played with the little coins on her dress absent-mindedly. She couldn’t help wondering vainly if this was having any effect on him at all.

‘Your call, Sephiroth.’

He leaned forwards and reached around her, almost embracing her as he pushed two thirds of his fortune towards the betting pile. Then he leaned back in his chair again and resumed his staring contest with Genesis.

‘Raise.’

Okay, definitely not.

‘Oh, fucking hell.’ Reeve folded again, Rufus too. Genesis returned his old friend’s gaze with a calculating intensity – Aeris was sure that if she stuck a hand between his and Sephiroth’s eyes she’d probably get burned.     

He scattering his stacks over the table in one vehement sweep. ‘Call.’ He had so little left that he could only bet everything to match Sephiroth’s amount.

‘Now who’s confident,’ Sephiroth stated with a cool grin.

‘One would think you two boys can actually _afford_ to bet this high,’ Rufus broke through the tension, dealing the fourth card face-down. ‘Ready?’

The two First Class never looked away from one another as they acquiesced. Rufus turned over the fourth card – a Jack of spades grinned up at both players, as if knowing it had doomed one of them. Aeris thought she saw a twinge of despair go through Genesis’ eyes. Rufus asked both players to reveal their cards.

Here, Sephiroth’s hand left Aeris’ thigh – she obediently got up to give him room, hoping she wasn’t still blushing as she stood next to his chair. He placed two red fives on the playing mat; Rufus slid them up to the four cards, fitting them next to the five of Spades, the ten of Hearts, and the two Jacks.

‘Full house,’ he stated while the silver-haired man looked smugly at his adversary. ‘Looks like somebody’s thoroughly fucked.’

‘Yeah,’ Genesis sighed, sliding his cards over to Rufus face-down. The blonde flipped them over; two Jacks grinned up at him, and he cried out in surprise.

‘Four of a kind,’ Rufus stated, sliding the four Jacks together, and everyone seemed to jump up on their chair, each trying to calculate the odds of getting such a hand while Genesis smiled insolently at his rival. Sephiroth looked like he was going to kill him. Everyone started congratulating him for being the first to finally beat the General, while he greedily raked the pile of chips towards himself.

‘Let me just take that,’ he said with a sneer, dragging Sephiroth’s stacks across the table and not even wincing under the man’s scalding glare. Their wealth was reversed. 

‘You operate on pure luck,’ Sephiroth said. ‘No strategy whatsoever.’

‘Go ahead and think that, if it makes you feel better.’

‘No strategy means empty victories,’ Sephiroth went on. ‘You’ll lose it all the minute your luck runs out.’

‘Chimera, I think your client needs some cheering up.’ The redhead winked at her as he got up to stretch. She didn’t think it would be very wise to even look at her client – he was finishing his cigarette with an alertness that led her to believe that if she touched him she’d promptly get her arm ripped off.

‘Shall I get you another drink?’ she attempted as Rufus shuffled the deck and everybody relaxed into a conversation about the game.      

‘Why don’t you entertain the one who actually paid for your services?’

She winced. The logical assumption was that he didn’t take well to losing, but she couldn’t help taking it personally. She thought she’d done everything right, responding to his hints, playing into his hands quite literally – but apparently it had been sheer luck, and it seemed she was running out of it. Trying not to appear hurt, she moved away and joined the conversational circle between Reeve and two other players who were standing to stretch their legs. Reeve admitted her with a smile, and she felt herself glowing with a much-desired feeling of acceptance.

Just as Rufus finished dealing out the cards, there was a sudden movement beyond their table; there was man rushing towards them, calling out somebody’s name with an urgency that made everyone look up. Aeris looked around to see an elegantly dressed blonde man hurrying up the stairs. There was a confused hush in which several of the players wondered aloud, ‘What’s Lazard doing here?’

‘Genesis, for fuck’s sake!’ this Lazard fellow boomed as he came up to the table and slapped his hands down on the mat. He was panting with exertion, cheeks red – Genesis frowned at him. ‘Why haven’t you been answering your phone?’

‘Phones are taken at the entrance,’ Rufus informed the man. ‘Actually, I don’t remember inviting you.’

 _‘_ There are more important things than your petty social hierarchy,’ Lazard shut the president’s favourite son up without a second’s hesitation. ‘Like a First Class’s duty towards his garrisons, for example.’

‘What’s going on?’ Genesis said. Rufus was going on a self-righteous rant about deserving a bit of respect, but Lazard cut through his little speech with information that hit the table like a bomb;

‘Our base at the Rocket Launch Pad has been wiped out.’

Silence. Everybody was looking up at him with round eyes – Genesis seemed to have frozen on the spot. Then he willed himself to skirt around the table and approach his superior. Aeris hadn’t even heard of the Launch Pad before, never mind how important it was in ShinRa’s affairs. She instinctually followed Reeve as the ShinRa heads crowded around Lazard, the other players staying at the table and speculating on what this implied.

‘It happened five hours ago. The whole place was bombed to oblivion,’ Lazard informed them, still glaring at Genesis who couldn’t seem to look anyone in the face. ‘Why is it that I received this information before you, Genesis? It was your garrison out there. You were supposed to be supervising their every movement.’

‘I was!’ Genesis cried.

‘No, you were here, playing around like some dumb grunt with no obligations.’

‘Look, how could I have even predicted – ’

‘It’s not about predicting.’

‘So what the fuck are we talking about if not prevention?’

‘ _Five hours_ , Genesis,’ Lazard shouted at him. ‘Five fucking hours! We’re talking about _reaction time_ , about being able to prevent more losses after the initial blow.’

‘Who have you dispatched?’

‘The medical team, and your reserve. But it was _your job_ , Genesis, _your_ garrison.’

‘I can’t monitor every foreign garrison’s movement for twenty-four hours straight!’ Genesis shot back. ‘I had delegated my authority to some excellent officers over there. And besides, I’m no fucking robot.’

‘You aren’t a robot, but you’re pretty damn near – you’re _First Class_. You should be able to handle your responsibilities.’

‘So what’s the result?’ Sephiroth smoothly cut in.

‘He was here, too!’ Genesis said as if the idea had occurred to him upon hearing the man speak. ‘I’m not the only First Class who actually tries to have a life beyond his duties.’

‘Maybe, but he apparently stays in contact with his own officers so that they aren’t left _blind_ and _unaided_ for the duration of his service in the city,’ Lazard snapped before addressing Sephiroth’s question. ‘The loss of our coastal defenses would greatly hinder our success rate in keeping the Wutain contained. And, there are all sorts of plans and equipment there that the Wutain _mustn’t_ get their hands on.’

‘Retaliation will easily secure all of that,’ Sephiroth stated, shifting as though ready to leave the place and take care of the details.

‘Angeal has already seen to the necessary offensive,’ Lazard said with a wave of the hand. ‘Apparently we still have a few First Class who are actually around to do their job.’

‘Do we know the losses yet?’ Sephiroth inquired; apparently Genesis didn’t have the heart to ask.

‘We have some estimates,’ Lazard told him. ‘They’re raking in the wounded by the hundred though. The bombing reached Rocket Town itself as well as environing villages, so we’re taking them in too since their hospitals are either wiped out or overflowing.’

Genesis let out a vehement curse, turning to walk away from the circle.

‘We’re actually asking for volunteers at the ShinRa hospital, since they’re already full after our bloody victory at the Da Chao two weeks back.’

‘That victory was supposed to be decisive!’ Genesis all but shouted, turning towards him again. ‘Everyone thought the bastards had finally tucked their tails in after accepting our terms.’

‘Looks like you ran out of luck, Sephiroth stated, daring a grim smile. Genesis looked at him, and he seemed to grow white out of pure _rage –_ he lunged at the silver-haired man, apparently too angry to speak, but Reeve and another executive caught him around the arms and waist, holding him back. Sephiroth stared him down coldly as the man struggled to free himself.

‘You think you’re so fucking perfect,’ Genesis spat. ‘It could’ve been your men.’

‘Well, it wasn’t.’

‘Unless you have something important going on here, I suggest we get moving,’ Lazard told them. ‘Technically we’ve got everything under control, but as First Class you should at least be physically present at the HQ to follow the operation.’

‘I don’t mean to be conceited but,’ Rufus said, ‘there’s a lot of unresolved bets sitting on the table.’

‘Just cancel the fucking game,’ Lazard spat at him. ‘Let’s go.’

Aeris was so shaken that she couldn’t help blurting out, ‘You said you needed volunteers?’

Lazard turned to look at her, apparently not having noticed her existence until then. He considered her sternly. ‘At the hospitals, yes. You have some skill in healing?’

‘Who the fuck do you take yourself for?” Sephiroth suddenly rounded on her. ‘Don’t pretend to understand any of this.’

She stared at him, practically delirious with all the conflicting emotions that the discussion was animating in her. Her mouth parted, but his gaze was so crushing that she couldn’t will herself to speak.

‘She’s in her right to volunteer,’ Lazard said, surprised at how cruel the First Class was being to this apparently innocent girl.

‘I’ll resign my office before I see some whore in the presence of our wounded,’ he said. ‘It’s unethical.’

Lazard looked at her briefly, letting out a hesitant ‘Oh’ as if the fact that she was a sex worker somehow justified Sephiroth’s objection. Before she could even try to defend herself, they had broken the circle, apologizing to the baffled host and getting on their way.      

Aeris tried to contain herself as she went to fetch her cape. She felt like screaming to the world that she was _somebody_ under her profession, or just breaking down and crying like a little girl; even Reeve had sort of looked away and dropped the affair as if it was useless to try and defend her. There was so much disappointment and anger and pure frustration welling up inside of her that she felt like she’d explode if she didn’t get out of there. Every single gaze that fell on her person was like an accusation.

She strode past Hegemony and Genesis, overhearing the tail end of their conversation;

‘… sure Boss would allow a partial refund.’

‘Just keep it. You need it more than I do.’

‘I’m so sorry about tonight, Genesis. I wish there was more I could – ’

‘Don’t worry about it. Get yourself home safe.’

She was almost at the entrance when she heard the knock of heels against the carpet behind her, and then Gem’s voice calling her – ‘Darling, just – please!’ Aeris slowed, turned to admit her friend into her personal bubble. ‘Don’t take this to heart, ok? You did really well tonight. You just forgot that he’ll always disapprove of us, however sweet he might be from time to time.’

‘It’s not even about him,’ Aeris said, her voice cracking up. ‘I can’t – I can’t talk about this.’

‘Ok,’ the woman agreed after considering her friend’s expression, her stride matching Aeris’. ‘Fuck the lot of them, let’s just get out of here.’

‘Yes,’ the flowergirl growled, allowing herself the luxury of cursing to relieve her anger. ‘Fuck them.’

But cursing didn’t alleviate much; it only served to feed her anger rather than douse it. She practically snatched the phone she’d bought thanks to Sephiroth’s generosity from the guard as they exited the salon and made their way out of the mansion.

Genesis had been mindful enough to get them a taxi before leaving with his superior; the driver waved at them as they walked across the parking lot.  

‘At least one of them has a few redeeming aspects,’ Hegemony said, then she noticed Aeris dialing a number. Her eyes widened, and she swiped at the phone. ‘Are you _mad_ , don’t call him!’

‘Don’t worry, I don’t even have his number,’ Aeris said, knowing her friend was referring to that white-haired bastard. ‘I’m calling Zack.’

Hegemony stared at her. ‘You’re not coming down with me?’

‘If he’s at his dormitory at the HQ I think I’ll sleep above the plate,’ Aeris told her. ‘Besides, there’s hardly a few hours before morning.’

‘What, are you planning to ambush the ShinRa heads with big panels full of feminist ranting when they go out for lunch tomorrow?’ Gem laughed, though she looked a bit worried.

Aeris was too grey-faced and disgusted to even afford her a smile. ‘Better still,’ she said, ‘I’m going to exercise my rights in this city right in their faces, if I can manage.’ It was only after brooding on these thoughts for a few seconds that she realized how selfish she was being; she looked up at her friend with an apologetic expression. ‘Oh, what am I doing! I can’t let you go down on the night train alone.’

‘You could always ask Zack to accommodate both of us,’ Gem offered. ‘I don’t know what you’re going to do but if you’re going to stand up for us then I certainly don’t want to stop you.’

‘Alright,’ Aeris finally smiled at her, before Zack picked up on the other end of the line. ‘Zack? Yeah. Listen, I’ve got something to ask you…’

 **• • •**  
                 


	7. Chapter 7

• • •

Zack didn’t know if he’d been happier in his life. Two gorgeous women and himself had just spent the night completely cramped and intimate in his tiny ten-metre-square room; as a result he felt as though there had never been another man in Midgar who had been as privy to the female mind as he had. His eyes unstuck with difficulty, opening on a view of utter chaos; there were glittery dresses strewn over every surface, bottles and brushes and powder-covered puffs sitting around amidst his very sparse belongings.

They’d ranted about the evening for so long that he’d only gotten a few hours’ sleep, and the girls even less since they’d dozed off at around 4am. He could still feel the excess of soft, bare skin all around him, making his body hair stand on end due to the sheer heady sensation of proximity and _Bois de Vanille_ perfume. They’d been three on his single bed. He was in no fit state to notice exactly whose limbs were hooked around his body this morning, or whose breast he was snuggled against. His brain was taken up by a glaring 404 error that prevented him from properly analyzing the situation further than “naked women agggg”.

Hegemony was knocked out - they’d glugged down the alcohol that he usually kept around for moments of acute humiliation, which were mostly limited to the parkour days under Sephiroth’s supervision. The bottle rolled over his stomach as Zack tried to heave her long bony limbs from his body, seeing Aeris at his desk trying to make sense of the make-up sticks in the lamplight.

‘I know about as much about make-up as I do about Midgarian foreign policy,’ she hiccupped miserably in his general direction. ‘I’m not fit to call myself woman.’

‘I thought you were going to the hospital this morning?’ Zack whispered as he folded Hegemony’s legs away from his body. ‘You don’t need to do that if that’s the case.’

‘I want to be recognizable,’ Aeris explained. ‘I had eyes like lumps of coal yesterday, thanks to her.’ A nod at the snoring lump on the bed.

‘I think you’re recognizable enough, Issy,’ Zack told her tenderly, before tripping over the pile of clothes on the floor and catching himself on a random suspender that was hanging from his cupboard door. He managed to disentangle himself, snatching up the suspender and swinging it over his shoulder, then bent over to search for the other one. It was such a _mess_ – and he was going to leave the place like this for at least two weeks! He hadn’t even kept track of which pile was dirty laundry –everything was mingled now anyway.

‘I’m going to be so late because of you and Gem’s girly shenanigans,’ he grumbled, before gleefully extracting the second suspender from the pile and clipping them to his trousers.

‘Didn’t you listen to anything we said last night? It’s important,” Aeris huffed. ‘You boys act like we don’t care about getting insulted all night long; as if to you, a girl is some kind of sentient spit pot with a sense of style.’

Zack laughed. ‘I know, but like I told _you_ last night, I’m supposed to take the bloody plane with Angeal’s reinforcements this morning to go and clear up that idiot’s mess. I don’t mean to say the war is more important than your feelings or anything, but, a man has duties.’

It was Aeris’ turn to smile as she turned to look at him. ‘Of course my feelings are more important,’ she said, but then her expression softened, eyes glazing over, and she added, ‘Don’t call him an idiot.’

Before he could speculate on the improbability of an innocent little flowergirl like her defending someone like Genesis, she’d hopped towards him to sort through his clothes; she was wearing one of his blue grunt jumpers, hands lost in the oversized sleeves, bare legs peeping out from the hem.

‘Do you have anything I can wear?’

‘What happened to daylight clothing?’ Zack chastised her. ‘Now that was clumsy.’

‘We were chauffeured up, I’ve only got my trench coat to hide in,’ Aeris told him. ‘I thought things would go a little differently.’    

‘Still a beginner’s mistake.’

‘Oh shut up, you pompous madam,’ Aeris cried, throwing a pair of holed socks at the man, who ducked out of the way.

He found her the smallest pair of trousers he owned, a big black leather belt, and… when he tugged a decidedly feminine tank top out from a drawer, he tried to give her an apologetic grin but she whacked him around the head anyway, taking the top from him.

‘Like it’s not enough to work at the Bee four nights a week!’ she teased him as she stretched up to pull the jumper over her head. Zack tried and failed to look away as her flawless skin extended over her muscles, light green veins apparent in the crags of her hipbones like green string unraveling from her girlish underwear. He knew it would never do to tell her the real reason behind his apparent nymphomania; he’d made the mistake of betraying her trust once, and now he simply couldn’t bring himself around to admitting what he felt for her. The way she'd chastised him last time was beginning to convince him that his new feelings for her were childish, anyway. (Though there was nothing _childish_ about what he wanted to do upon seeing all of that bare flesh.)

She’d pulled the tank top over the tempting expanse in the second that followed, nonchalantly adjusting her bra as she reached down for the trousers and pulled them up. They hung from her legs, baggy folds drooping like so many grinning mouths from hip to toes.

‘There aren’t enough holes in this,’ she mumbled as she yanked at the belt, so Zack reached towards her with an amused smile, sliding his fingers between the trousers and her warm skin.

‘Let me do it,’ he said when she protested, setting the beltline lower on her hips and cinching it at the last hole, the movement jerking her hips towards his. ‘There you go. The perfect tomboy.’

She was apparently too groggy to swat his hands away. ‘When does day break?’

‘In an hour or so,’ he murmured, taking advantage of her apparent sleepiness to draw her against him. ‘Look, this is your vendetta. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea to try and piss Sephiroth off.’

‘I’m not trying to piss him off, I’m trying to establish myself in his mind as a human being,’ she corrected him. Then she hugged him loosely around the waist in response.

‘Well, exactly,’ Zack laughed. ‘I think the man believes he’s the only one worthy of the name _human_ in this city.’

‘And you think it’s a bad idea to try and change that?’ 

‘I think it’s a bad idea for _you_ to try and change that,' he rectified. ‘You’re my little Aeris.’

The 'little Aeris' in question just laughed, and pushed away from him in order to undo her braid.

‘I know I’m harmless. I just want him to see me – it’s a passive message, really.’

‘Still…’

Zack scratched the back of his head for a second, watching the three long chunks of her hair come apart. Then he stumbled over to his cupboard and took out a small fiery orb that he’d always neglected, as he already owned several Mastered ones.

‘Here.’

He gave it to her, and he thought his heart just about melted to goo in his chest upon seeing her lips curl up in gratitude, cheeks hitching with a childish plumpness. She reached up to tie it into her hair before starting a new, clean braid.

‘And then you say you’re _not_ bad influence,’ she told him. ‘I told you I wanted to send a passive message at the man, not a blast of fire.’

‘Always have a back-up plan,’ Zack said wisely. Then he raised his eyebrows when she next looked at him, hands up in her hair. ‘Don’t I even get a kiss then?’

•

It was hard to concentrate on where she was going, since there were a thousand wanderers going on their way around her. And whenever she saw a glint of well-brushed leather or a sweeping cascade of white-blonde hair, she felt her heart contract and her stride waver. She still couldn’t believe how set she was on her objective; nothing had ever taken her to heart so strongly that she’d decided to go against the natural agoraphobia that gripped her as soon as she was alone in the Upper World.

She buried her hands in her trouser pockets and put her head down, trying not to stare at the women that passed in the clear light of dawn. Chins buried in their furs and brocade scarves, they were either chattering away in their hi-tech headsets or talking loudly among themselves of things she’d never heard of before. Her lack of knowledge clunked in her body like a dead weight, a great mass waiting to be filled – but then again, if these people were all as knowledgeable and yet morally vapid as those she’d seen so far in the _soirées_ , they were hardly worth anyone’s envy.

Her eyes lifted from time to time to the towering ShinRa building which was a few streets away. She could never look up at it without remembering her days of captivity; though they were distant, and time had mercifully lessened their impact on her sanity, she couldn’t help feeling the cold clawing down her spine. She hoped against hope that Hojo wouldn’t be present at the ShinRa hospital. She’d gathered that he was rather a lab man, someone who worked on scientific advancement rather than public intervention.

The hospitals were coming into view; she was beginning to feel like her plan was a bit unrealistic, now that she was actually putting it into play. And it wasn’t even a certified fact that Sephiroth would be there at all. And what if they didn’t even accept her due to her want of qualifications? And –

She was in front of the hospital doors. _Ok. I’ve come this far._ She should think of her mission as something born from human compassion and not some mere vendetta, as Zack had put it. Since when had she started thinking like that? If the First Class saw her, then fine, but that shouldn’t have become the main objective. And she wasn’t even thinking about whether or not there’d be _physical_ consequences if they saw her; technically she hadn’t even thought past the initial visual contact.          

She was in her rights. Zack had told her there were no laws in this city that prevented a sex worker from working a second job. That sufficed to reassure her that she’d come to no harm.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the glass doors, she discreetly licked her fingers and tried to smooth her hair against her skull before going in, feeling more and more like a hermit having scrambled out into the light. She looked like a damn vagrant – it would never do.

She breathed in, pushed the door open, and put on her best squeaky clean smile for the nurse who held the front desk.

‘We can only provide service for emergencies.’ It was like an automated statement: the diligent woman didn’t even look up from her paperwork as she heard the bell tinkling upon Aeris’ entrance.

‘I’m here to volunteer as aid for the war victims,’ Aeris stated. 

‘You have any credentials?’ She raised her eyes, scanning the girl from the baggy trousers to the black muffler to the windblown hair.

‘I’m a nurse down at the slums,’ Aeris lied, knowing as well as this nurse that no slum professional possessed anything to accredit their skill. Nevertheless, the nurse’s expression went from skeptic to instantly approving as she heard this.

‘Then you’re more than welcome,’ she said, tone warming Aeris’ heart. ’I’ll just need you to confirm your skill with an assistant, and then you’ll be directed to a ward where your specific skills are needed.’ She fumbled in one of her drawers. ‘Realistically speaking, even the most qualified are pushing trays and cleaning material – everyone’s doing everyone else’s work, so you’d best get ready for some hard and varied activity.’

Aeris nodded as the woman reached over to slip a “volunteer” tag around her neck. The lady smiled at her with respect glowing in her eyes as she added; ‘You guys are amazing for coming up here to help. There a so many qualified Upworlders who won’t put in the extra hours just because the pay isn’t guaranteed. As soon as the rush is over I’ve half a mind to call you slum nurses back up and give you all their positions.’

Aeris hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing moral praise like this. Her smile became genuine as she adjusted her tag.

‘I just want to help.’

The nurse nodded, then leaned forward; ‘I know slum work must be tough, and that gang wars and the like can have outcomes just as dire as what you’re about to see. But you have to prepare yourself for the worse. The stream of income is _endless._ And a lot of them can’t be saved. Don’t take it to heart, ok?’

Hearing that same statement Gem had told her but in a completely different context struck Aeris as strange; she’d found that wearing her heart on her sleeve was the reason behind all the initiatives she’d ever taken. Nevertheless, she nodded, telling herself that being sensitive couldn’t possibly be a bad thing in these situations.

•

Oh, how wrong I was.

The smell is the first thing that startles me into disgust and fear; they handed me a mask but it hardly blocks out anything. It smells of rotten flesh laced through with piss and disinfectant; it’s such an overpowering blend that I almost vomit upon stepping in the corridor. I’m directed to one of the worst wards when they see my potency with curative materia; one of the closest wards to the entrance where Soldiers get directly carted in. So I keep hearing the doors bang open and the squeak of wheels as the men and women are hurried in, doctors and nurses shouting the states of the Soldiers so that aids can take them over and lead them to the appropriate rooms.

Several aids are with me in the waiting room, most of them women; we take notes of what the doctors say, clip medical résumés on the patients’ beds, apply pain-numbing medication and, for those who know how to, connect certain patients to IVs. There is a glittery fog of magic in the air after an abusive use of Cure and Esuna; we aids are mostly there to rid the patients of superfluous infections and wounds so that their main inflictions aren’t worsened, supervising the passage from waiting room to operation table.   

It’s been two hours already. The veins in my arms feel like they’re about to burst after so much magic; but nothing in my body feels as raw and chafed as my eyes, after seeing so many shattered bodies, reds and blacks blooming over entire landscapes of shredded skin, dislocated limbs distorting the notion of human anatomy, making me feel like I’m the abomination here with my clean skin and straight bones. I can see why she told me not to take anything to heart; my own body seems to have retreated into a sort of emergency numbness, and it’s not before the income starts slowing that I allow myself to consider the Soldiers as humans and not broken bodies in need of fixing.  

Talking is something we have to do to keep certain Soldiers conscious, so after a while I begin to lose the automatism of it as we keep the less battered Soldiers a little longer than others in the waiting room. A lot of them keep calling for their mothers or abstract entities; one of them keeps calling out softly, so I go over to him, my heart suddenly aching as I see how handsome he must’ve been under the burnt skin of his face.

‘Tabitha,’ he’s saying repeatedly in a tortured murmur. ‘Tabitha…’

He’s groping feebly at the air, his breaths wheezing in and out of his tired lungs. I’m standing directly over him but the burn has made him blind; his eyelids are covered in a shiny mash of blisters, his entire face burned away except for a part of his jaw and his impossibly sensual lips. It grips me suddenly, how unfair it is – how unfair for the woman he’s calling after, and how unfair that the woman isn’t here, even though there are way too many people here for anyone to be able to find their loved ones. But couldn’t Providence just give people a little push in the right direction in these situations? I’m looking down at him and it becomes agonizingly apparent, how many lovers are being torn apart at this very moment, how many parents and children are separated without even a chance to kiss goodbye. He’s whispering the name now, his voice guttural and despairing, and something forces me to take off my latex glove and grasp his reaching hand.

‘I’m here,’ I whisper, and a hot rush of tears blurs my vision. ‘I’m here.’

I’m leaning over him without thinking, and my tears fall to his throat; he turns his head a fraction, and his burnt skin pulls and strains as he smiles.

‘Don’t cry, Tabby…’ His fingers quirk as they close around my hand, nerves probably fried due to his extensive burns, but he still brings my hand up against his chest. I lean closer, following the movement, and he tries to reach for my face with his other hand – there are several fingers missing, and the horror of it coupled with the tenderness of the gesture just pulls me over the edge.

‘Tabitha,’ he whispers again as the tears run freely down my face; then just before his amputated fingers reach me there are firm hands on my shoulders pulling me away.

I look up, trembling violently, and the aid seems to think twice on telling me off for removing the gloves.

‘You should take a break, sweetie,’ she says. ‘I’ll take over.’

In a sweep of steps and consoling pushes I’m in the corridor, ripping off my mask and gloves in order to take my face in my hands, touching smooth skin and telling myself I’m not involved with anyone here. I’m not involved. I’m not involved. _Don’t take it to heart_ , they said.

There are other aids in the corridors wearing volunteer tags, sitting with their heads bowed in the plastic chairs. Some of them even have tranquillizers in their hands; I’m not sure I want to add that to my mushy, overripe heart. I’m leaning against a water dispenser, not even conscious of my actions as I prepare myself a cup of water. I shouldn’t have said I was a slum nurse; it was blatantly disrespectful, to presume that I could take this much pressure. I swipe my face with a trembling hand, trying to get rid of the tears though my cheeks are sopping wet, before taking my cup.

There’s a movement in the corridor ahead, double doors opening slowly, and my heart almost stops as I see the General in his military attire, covered in black leather from head to toe. I had honestly forgotten about wanting him to see me, or wanting to have anything to do with him at all, I was so absorbed in attending to the patients and trying to keep up with the flurry of activity. Considering it now, it was a completely stupid idea to want him to see me – I keep my head down as I sip my water with shaking hands. A figure gets up from one of the chairs in a space veiled by foggy glass panels, and I can’t help being intrigued as Sephiroth stills upon seeing the person, his determined expression cracking slightly. It looks like he can’t decide whether to be angry or desolate, which is something I’d never thought I’d live to see; but then the figure behind the glass begins advancing towards him hesitantly, and he makes up his mind. He goes towards the figure with resolute strides, and disappears behind the glass, becoming a gritty silhouette. When they meet he reaches out and pulls the other person into a violent embrace, silhouettes mingling and becoming one.

I keep an eye on the glass, wondering who might’ve earned the General’s affection and wondering whether I might be hallucinating the whole thing since it just seems so improbable that the man might set aside his cold façade for everyone to see like this. They part, and begin walking towards the visible part of the corridor; the shock of seeing Genesis appear at the General’s side slightly lessens when I see how terrible he looks. Even I want to give him a hug, after all the crap he’s put me through. He’s ashen-faced, wearing one of those expressions of forced indifference that cover up a wealth of emotion.

They’re coming closer – my erratic pulse reminds me to turn away before they see me, hands coming up discreetly to pull my mask back over my face.

‘… not your fault,’ Sephiroth’s saying with the deep, rough voice of a man who’s spent the night smoking instead of sleeping. ‘The communications block was the first thing they bombed, so even if you’d been on the screens at the moment of the bombing you couldn’t have taken any major decisions until an hour later.’

‘That’s still four hours wasted,’ Genesis states listlessly. ‘Fucking Rufus and his ban on phones. I still can’t believe it’s thanks to the fucking press department and their journalists rather than Soldiers that we managed to know the extent of the situation.’

‘The place is in the middle of nowhere,’ Sephiroth counters him, clearly trying to comfort him and erase all fault. ‘Without the proper equipment, our network doesn’t even reach it.’

‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ Genesis says, looking up at his friend; they pass right in front of me, and I catch a whiff of sweat and fresh soil on their leathers. ‘Thanks for the effort, but you can’t take the blame away.’

‘Look at how your Soldiers greeted you in the recovery rooms. They didn’t blame you at all. Most of them were actually smiling when we left.’

Genesis looks away, and he brings a hand up to his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes. My feelings are so warped out of shape by now that I almost run up to him to give him some type of comfort; but Sephiroth’s mere presence, the black of his leathers and the scent I recognized from his apartment stills any mindless urge of compassion.

My cup’s been empty for a few minutes now; shaken back to reality, I toss it away and pull my gloves back on, heading towards my attributed room.        

I find myself wondering about whether or not I’m mentally qualified for this job as I manage to reclaim a neutral state of mind while taking care of my next patients. The receptionist’s ironic statement about filling up positions here with slum nurses actually sounds quite appealing, though I’m really not sure I could do this for more than a day at a time. It feels so strange to think of my nightly occupations as I unzip new patients’ uniforms in order to put them at ease; as far as high society seems to view the morality of jobs, I’d be working the worse possible job there is during the night, and the best during the day, if I signed on as medical aid. It was completely offensive and I still haven’t forgiven him, but somehow it’s becoming easier to understand Sephiroth’s reaction upon mentioning that I could conciliate sex work and medical care. The fact that he knows nothing about me doesn’t really help in the whole forgiving scenario, since I still regularly help out slummers when I’m not too knocked out to spend a day wandering through the Sectors. Maybe it doesn’t even matter whether I forgive him about it or not – it’s unlikely he’ll ever tolerate my presence again even if Genesis hires me for him. Hmph. It’s slightly difficult to think about it as the simple possibility of a regular income vanishing, rather than the precious attention of the most important man of ShinRa vanishing… Oh, _come on_ , Aeris. He’s a bastard. No reason to be disappointed.

Still, I have to wonder just how he would’ve reacted upon seeing me here- as Zack told me, it was the _worst_ possible idea to try and make a statement in such an environment, where emotions are already bubbling over the edge.

Sunset comes to mark the passage of time. There are golden streaks coming in through the windows, making the patients’ wounds glitter with a morbid beauty – the flow of patients has all but stopped, and we’re beginning to take turns to go and get ourselves a semblance of dinner. I let the woman who’d helped me through my breakdown earlier leave before me, smiling and nodding at her as I take off my gloves. Once she’s out the door, I’m finally alone in a room full of moderately well-off patients. Sighing to dispel the tensions that have encroached on every single articulation in my body throughout the day, I try to get in touch with the energy that allows me to heal without materia.  
It’s something I haven’t done yet, since there was such a rapid influx of patients that I couldn’t spare the energy when so many needed attention. I’m standing in the middle of the room, facing the windows so that the brazen sunlight falls over my skin, helping to coax the energy out. It’s there – it’s unfurling in me, rocking from side to side, filling up my torso and trickling down my arms. I close my eyes as it creeps into my skull, eyelids trembling – it’s a wonderful feeling, soothingly hot and pressing up against my skin like a benevolent outburst. Then it breaks out of my skin, and I extend my hands towards my patients so that they might partake in the ecstasy of it; my hands shake as the waves of energy go shuddering out of me, dissipating the patients’ pain, closing their superficial wounds, healing all infections.

There are fingers closing around my wrist – I don’t notice it until they grip me painfully and yank my arm up against my back, so that the magic dies around me like scintillating curtains dropping to the ground. I’m concentrating so hard that I automatically assume it’s only a patient, but the grip is so strong and it _hurts –_ but if it’s not a patient, then who - ?  

My eyes fly open.

_Oh._

_Oh, Gaia!_

•

The leather squeaks against her skin as the scent of masculinity fills the air around her. She’s breathing heavily as her eyes widen with pain and realization, stumbling back to try and relieve her arm. But the man’s other hand is on her shoulder, and he steers her around so that she can see his partner. She’s being accosted by two fully-armed Soldier grunts on police duty.

‘What- what are you doing?’

‘You’re coming with us, miss.’

Some aids try to stop them as they lead her out of the room into the corridor, where everyone’s taking a dinner break.

‘Excuse me, sir - ?’

‘This person is a fraud.’

‘She’s been of precious help to us and the Soldiers.’ The protesting aid sounds like that same compassionate woman who’d helped Aeris out earlier; but Aeris can’t even turn around to check since any movement sends jolts of pain up her arm. Her eyes are flying around wildly; she can’t think, can’t speak. _These are Sephiroth’s men._ He couldn’t be arresting her, could he? She knows she’s in her right to be here, technically, but well - he has connections. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so proud about him being the most important man in ShinRa; but instead of thinking of that quality as something to be proud of after catching his eye, she should’ve thought about the privileges that that granted him. Could it be that, if he’s aggravated or if he simply doesn’t like someone, he could just – _dispose_ of them? Does he have that power?

The questions and doubts circle in her head as the guards explain their right to take her away. It had been a bad idea to come here but she’d only redeemed herself in her mind, not in her actual presence _._ And she can’t go back on it now. She should’ve left as soon as she saw him enter the premises. She should’ve left, she should’ve _left_.

The pain lancing through her shoulder and the slam of double-doors opening on the exterior forces Aeris back to reality, and she tenses up as the wind curls around her cheeks in a stingingly cold caress. She’s practically being dragged down the metal stairway, each step whining in its rusted frame as they make their way down.

‘I can walk by myself,’ she gasps. _This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening._

 _‘_ Can’t risk it, miss,’ the grunt holding her says.

‘I had _permission_ to be in there!'

‘No you didn’t,’ the grunt counters her. ‘A quick background check told us that you lied to the receptionist. You’re not a nurse.’

‘A background check?’ Ice is flowing freely through her veins in thick white lumps. Could it – could it be Hojo then? And not Sephiroth? It’s a wonder she can keep the scream inside of herself; it rattles around her ribcage as she imagines the possibilities _._ ‘What did you find then?’

‘That your actual job doesn’t allow you this sort of activity.’ 

‘Is that all?’ It comes out of her breathlessly. But the grunts only shift their hold on her, feet hitting cement as they make their way towards a car.

‘Prostitution may be legal in Midgar. But that doesn’t mean you can work another job at the same time.’

She’s gritting her teeth at how he’s obviously parroting Sephiroth’s ideas.

‘Did you even bother to check your facts?’ she snaps. ‘According to my own sources, I’m entirely in my rights.’

‘According to my sources, you aren’t,’ he says simply, then shoves her up to the door. ‘Get in.’

‘Where are you taking me?’ 

‘Please, miss. We don’t want any trouble.’

‘Are you arresting me?’

‘We were only ordered to take you away from here.’

‘But - by _who?’_

 She has to know. It _has_ to be him. But the grunt takes her arm again, puts a hand on her head and forces her inside.

• • •


	8. Chapter 8

**• • •**

A pair of dark, knowing eyes met Delaine's, the pupils like age-worn arrowheads. He could feel her angling them at him, aiming for his heart. She was a master of the game. Even as she passed the age milestones that made it harder for her to appeal to a wider clientele, she remained the unquenchable huntress. Every glance was an estimation of her prey's strength, every move a calculated contribution to the take-down.

‘What's your count?’

Delaine was sitting opposite her in the red and blue bowels of the Blue Dragon brothel. She was tilting her pink champagne in its flute, eyes shifting between the aperitif's delicate colour and her guest's face.

‘I'm not sure I understood the question,’ she said,a strange accent slurring her words.

Delaine sighed, nodded at one of the boys who stood at either side of him. A hand slid onto the table, clenched around a pack of bills. The hooker looked up at him, lowered a starry eyelid at him in a rare wink, and collected the gift.

‘Fifteen,’ she admitted.

‘All from ShinRa?’

The woman took a sip of the champagne, setting the flute down so that the lip-stained rim stared in her guest's direction.

‘Some yes, some no.’

‘Would you divulge your employers or would it be a waste of breath to persuade you?’

She deigned to smile at this. ‘You know us, Markus.’

‘Alright.’ Delaine sat up, hands on his thighs in his trademark business posture. ‘I suppose you're familiar with what's happening, seeing how many  _friends_  your Madam has in the higher circles of society. I'm here to enlighten you about a new and rather daunting project we have.’

‘This is about AVALANCHE, isn't it?’

Seeing as this information was very new and he'd come by it through an endless string of contacts, he could hardly believe this woman already knew. Then again, this was the Blue Dragon. The girls had to be well-versed in the city's politics, seeing the clients they had – and the quasi-totality of the women had been hired for political ends during their careers.

‘You know about them already? The term was decided upon barely 24 hours ago,’ Delaine said.

‘The nights have been very long,’ was all she said.

Delaine cleared his throat. It seemed slightly ridiculous to be intimidated by a mere hooker – but this woman was of a different sort entirely. ‘Here's the deal. As you know, there have been radical anti-ShinRa activists ever since the first Mako reactor was erected – but none so organized as when the war on Wutai started. They didn't have enough weight during the last elections to offer anyone a better picture than what President Shinra and his revolutionary power-source ideas presented. But a lot of things have changed since then. After four mandates of absenteeism where our mayor lets Shinra run the city as well as his company, we simply can't continue to turn a blind eye.’

‘Please,’ the hooker interrupted him, looking around herself with the haughtiest air imaginable. ‘Sex may be cheaper than politics, but at least your knowledge on the matter is never doubted. I thought you knew who I was when you summoned me. You must know I'm escort to the president himself from time to time, so don't insult me. Even his close friends call him the 'little monarch' and he doesn't even seem to care - it's common knowledge that you and other Midgar underground leaders have helped him to corrupt the elections since the beginning, so no grand parables on that if you will.’ A conscientious sip of champagne. ‘Nobody is even on his side any more, except the upper class and those who directly depend on them, like us.’

Delaine was nodding, clearly impressed. He'd already used girls from the Dragon for some shady business – he'd even involuntarily caused the deaths of one or two, but only because they threw themselves into the tasks he gave them as if their real game was intrigue and not mere sex work. Every time, their vigour had astonished him- though this was the first time that that same vigour shone through knowledge rather than action.

The hooker raked her almond-shaped nails across her hairline – her great mass of black hair had been twisted up in an elaborate system of crossing braids, giving her ears and neck a naked sensuality. Though, the bareness of her neck was slightly spoiled by the blurred black scales that were tattooed there, hugging her entire throat before continuing down her cleavage and over her shoulder-blades in a beautiful pectoral necklace.

‘In the opposition's eyes, I only exist on the President's arm.’

‘That could work to our advantage,’ Delaine told her. She only smiled.

‘How do you know I'm not actually on his side?’

‘You're a prostitute,’ the man said automatically, straightening to better state his authority. ‘You don't have political opinions.’

‘Really, now?’ drawled the woman. ‘Our little monarch is a despicable man, but he doesn't only fill the space between my legs. He fills my head. And my pockets.’

‘There are many men on the other side who could fill your pockets. AVALANCHE may be a slum movement, but they are echoed by organized groups up here who count more than one ShinRa head.’

Surprisingly, the woman was laughing. ‘The world is turning upside-down, don't you think? Prostitutes wage radical political warfare while mafia leaders plant trees.’

‘You clearly don't understand anything if that's your assumption.'

‘You have no opinion. I do,’ the woman stated condescendingly. ‘Just because you operate on money instead of morals doesn't mean everyone else does.’

‘You  _siding_  with Shinra just states how money-based your own political opinion is,’ Delaine huffed. ‘Don't try to make yourself sound so clever. In the end, I pay you to do a job, and you do it, end of story.’

The hooker didn't lose her smile when he said this; she leaned back in her chair, bringing her champagne flute to her lips.

‘So what are the activists offering you for you to be so loyal to them?’ she asked.

‘I'm loyal to no one but myself,’ Delaine told her. ‘And that's none of your business.’

‘I'm only surprised that they would've approached  _you_  of all people, in the last 24 hours.’

‘Well, think. Materia doesn't appear in a snap of the fingers.’ The man smugly adjusted his collar, letting his marvelous intelligence sink into this woman's mind. But she was still smiling.

‘Unlike political allegiances, I'm sure.’

The level of smugness was making the air above the table positively fizzle; but he chose to ignore her. ’Now, here's something you probably don't know; it seems that Lazard's boy has finally shown an interest in women.’

‘Sephiroth?’ It hardly took her a second to switch from smug to genuinely surprised. ‘That's impossible.’

‘I know, it's hard to believe after all our efforts. And she's from one the most obscure brothels imaginable, too.’ Delaine smiled, remembering the debacle he'd watched at the ShinRa pup's gambling salon. ‘Try to guess which one.’

The woman sighed. Her pride was already wounded enough with the realization that her colleagues' efforts hadn't been repelled because of absolute indifference on that man's part, but because of an actual system of preference that she would never have guessed existed.

‘She's not a Genteel is she?’ The Gentility was the least regulated rat-hole in all the Upper city. It would be an insult to lose to that kind of girl.

‘Worse,’ Delaine said. ‘She's not even on the plate.’

‘She's a  _slum girl_?’

‘And I believe that's what lost her the game, since she overstepped the boundaries last time I saw her interact with him.’ The hooker's grimace of pure horror smoothed out as he said this. ‘As far as we know, maybe it was nothing. Maybe he has a taste for the uneducated. But he's shown that he's not totally impervious to women. Which means the game is on.’

The hooker looked almost flattered at what he was implying. She'd never tried her hand at the General, simply because she'd never felt the need, having a full agenda of bookings by the most affluent men of Midgar. And, in her mind the game was over before having even started with that man, seeing how many girls bore his insufferably cruel rejections. She hadn't even considered him as a challenge since there had never been any visible prize after so much effort.

But now there was.

Trying to water down her excitement at the prospect, the hooker thought back on the conversation.

‘So what has the act of deflowering the General got to do with change?’

Delaine gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘Everything.’

**• • •**

Aeris doesn't even recognise the building before she's standing right in the corridor, face up against the shiny number plaque on the door. They drove for so long that she'd started thinking they were actually taking her out of Midgar or something. An hour of despairing speculation later and here she is, still wearing her grimy clothes and volunteer tag. The grunts ring a bell, and there's an electronic  _click_  that signals the door opening.

'In you go,' the grunts say, giving her a little push. She all but stumbles inside, hands up against the door.

The sight of that enormous apartment greets her, and the luxury of it punches her in the stomach a second time. The blinds are half-drawn, and she can see a figure reclining in an armchair, silhouette cutting up the golden shafts of sunlight that peek in through the interstices. There are whorls of smoke uncurling in the golden air, seeping up from a cigarette that the man holds between two fingers.

‘Dismissed,’ he says. The grunts nod before leaving her side, shutting the door behind them. She hears the  _click_  of the automatic lock, and her heart just about fails her.

Seconds trickle by. The air is dense with sugar-tainted tobacco. She knows exactly why she's here – but she has no idea how to react. Should she – say something? Surely he expects an apology - after all what else could she be here for, if not to apologize and accept some type of punishment?

‘Come here.’

The sunlight glaring through the blinds makes it impossible for her to look in his direction – she keeps her eyes downcast as she steps forwards, her insides quivering like jelly with every step. Her feet sink into the carpet where he'd held her weeks ago, and in a few more steps, a few more jerks of the heart, she's standing in front of him at a safe distance, keeping the coffee table between them. Of course,  _safe_  would mean the other side of the Planet right now – but it's the best she can do without disobeying him.

Silence again. He's observing her, the only sound being his soft, smoky exhale.

‘I'm so sorry,’ she lets out. She's looking at her toes, her stance screaming of childish shame.

He lets a few more seconds go by before saying;

‘No you aren't.’

His voice is impossibly husky, reminding her of the earlier impression of his exhaustion. But instead of it stirring pity in her, she finds that the sensuality of it adds a whole new scope of intimidation. Undeterred, perhaps believing him to still possess some shred of understanding, she tries again;

‘I didn't know you'd be there. I – ‘

‘Of course I was there. And you must think me an idiot if you think I'll believe you weren't there for the specific purpose of putting yourself in my line of sight.’

He's talking too eloquently – too many words – she only registers his voice as a deep, menacing growl.

‘I saw what you're capable of,’ he goes on. ‘Explain.’

Silence. She has to – reply to him? She thinks. ‘It's a gift in my family.’

‘Alright.’ He says it immediately, as if she could've said anything at all. ‘Do you believe this  _gift_  makes you better than most women of your kind?’

‘No – no, I – ’

‘Yes you do,’ he makes her mind up for her again, and before she can contradict him he goes on. ‘You believe you have an advantage. That whatever minuscule ability you possess allows you to rise above the constraints of those who subjugate their human dignity for the sake of money. And you are absolutely wrong in thinking this. I want to show you why.’

Suffice to say that Aeris understands  _nothing_  of what is being said.

‘Do you understand?’

 _Nope._  But he apparently doesn't care whether she understands or not, because the next thing he does is casually take a drag, expel the chalky white clouds from his lungs, and resume his insistent stare.

‘Take off your clothes.’

‘ _What_?’

Did – did he really just- ? Aeris can't help looking up at him then, but the sun burns her eyes before she can get any further than a pair of violet, wine-stained lips. Why would he, of all people, ask her to do that? She's still sorting out through possible explanations as her hands come up to her tank top – but then something, perhaps a certain salutary notion of self-worth, stills her fingers.

‘Why?’

‘I just explained why,’ her captor tells her quite conversationally.

She stares around herself, trying to remember what he'd been talking about while she was panicking. But she has to defend herself somehow. Strangely enough, the defense comes to her as quickly as with any man on the street.

‘I don't work for free.’

‘You don't charge for exhibition.’

‘How would you know?’ Her heart bruises her ribs as she allows herself to talk back to him.

‘Do you really think I'm naïve enough to be ignorant of how this works?’

‘It's not a question of being naïve,’ she says. ‘There's a code you have to respect, and it's different for every brothel.’

‘Really?’ He leans forwards in a suave creak of leather. ‘Tell me then.’

She can hardly believe that after a day like today, he might want this – or even expect her to still be willing to work after seeing countless bloodied horrors pass through her hands. She nevertheless obeys him, feeling unnerved by how calm he is after having her dragged across half of Midgar to his apartment.

‘Well,’ she stammers. ‘There's a price for everything. You have to state exactly what you want to do. And then I calculate the price.’

‘How sad,’ he says. ‘That doesn't leave any room for improvisation.’

‘As long as you've paid for whatever extras you want, you can improvise all you like.’

‘What are these  _extras_  then?’

She looks up, hardly believing that the customary questions are coming from  _this_ man. And then suddenly, as she tries to fight the humiliation of enumerating every sexual act she charges in front of one of the most illustrious men she'll ever meet, she finally realizes that that's the whole point of this strange meeting: humiliation. He's trying to make her feel the shame of her profession. To put her back in her place. The disgust that was beginning to well up inside of her begins to find a new orientation than herself, and she holds her head a little higher.

‘Anything that isn't basic penetration.’

‘So exhibition counts?’

‘Yes.’

She can't believe her eyes as she notes an arm moving towards the coffee table – she's here, completely at his mercy, and yet he's still playing the customer? Perhaps he thinks that money only makes the act that much worse for her. She wants to laugh at how backwards his values are, how thoroughly opposite they are to hers.

He takes out a handful of notes from a table drawer, scatters them on the table surface, and reclines back into the armchair.

‘I'll ask again. Take off your clothes.’

‘That's very generous of you,’ she says slowly, daring to push her apparent authority a little further when her eyes catch the three-digit numbers on each bill. ‘But I'm afraid I don't work freelance. You'll need my employer's approval.’

The rustle of leather slices through her voice as he gets up from the armchair, figure blotting out the sunlight. Her budding self-confidence completely withers away as she sees him stepping around the coffee table and making for her.  _Oh, Crisis, Crisis –_  her foot wanders back but he's got a hand at her throat before she can go anywhere, and he makes her back away until she hits a wall, eyes squeezing shut as the pain spears through her shoulders and spine.

‘You know I don't need anyone's approval,’ he hisses at her, lips moving hotly against her ear. ‘But if you insist. Please go ahead.’

‘I – what – ‘ She can't think, can only feel each of his fingers as they dig into her throat, his breath loaded with tobacco and sweet wine filling her nose. ‘What do you mean, 'go ahead'?’

‘Call him. Call your employer.’

Her attention focuses on her phone, weighing down her back pocket. Again, she doesn’t understand what he’s trying to do, why he’s insisting on playing by the rules when he's got a hand around her throat. He’s staring her in the face now, eyes heavy-lidded, halfway between disdain and desire. She wonders if he’s daring her to say no. Daring her to refuse someone of his calibre. Perhaps saying no is all it would take for him to stop. But she can’t think – all she wants is for him to stop looking so murderous, and maybe doing what he says will calm him down.

She tries her hardest to breathe. Reaches for her phone, and looks for Boss’s number. Sephiroth gives her just enough space to press her phone to her ear, eyes strung to his red-rimmed ones.

 ‘Hello?’ says Boss.

His voice is so familiar. It’s everything safe and paternal and homely and Aeris wants to cry just hearing it.

‘Hi, Boss,’ she says.

‘Is everything alright, Chimera?’

Gem told her that there was a code – something to say if you were ever in trouble. Aeris can’t remember it clearly. She’s never had to use it.

‘I, uh. There’s someone who wants to make a booking.’

‘Right now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hmph. You know we don’t usually do things like this. Who is it?’

Sephiroth is listening to every word. She blinks, heart hammering with humiliation: Boss is going to sound so happy, and she can’t bear the thought of Sephiroth listening to that while he’s holding her against the damn _wall._

Deliriously, she tries to add in some trivia to tip him off. ‘I was just on the Plate, Gem will tell you. I wasn’t expecting to be working today. You – you know. I didn’t want to break the rules.’ Her voice runs dry as Sephiroth cocks an eyebrow. ‘It’s, uh. It’s Sephiroth.’

‘Oh. Oh! Well, in that case, it’s all fine. I trust you enough to handle the money…’

As expected, Boss goes off gushing about it, and Sephiroth’s lip curls up in a smile. Aeris wants to scream into the phone, _help me, for Gaia’s sake, can’t you hear what I’m trying to say? -_  but how can she do that without making Sephiroth angry? Soon enough the conversation runs out, Boss wishing her all the best and then the tone’s gone dead. Her phone drops to the floor, her fingers are shaking so hard.   

‘Well then,’ Sephiroth murmurs. ‘Now that it’s all confirmed. Will you do as I asked?’

She has to say it. One last chance _. He’s just a man, Aeris. He’s just one man like all the rest. You don’t have to bow to him._ She licks her lips, her mouth full of cotton.

‘Please – can you just -please – ’

 ‘Please what?’ he mocks her. ‘Oh, you want me to do it for you?’

His nails scrape the skin between her breasts, and then he’s ripping her top apart – she cries out, the shrill sound of tearing fabric filling her ears. It stretches away from her like tattered grey skin. Once it’s open and gaping over her bra and belly, he reaches down to unbuckle her belt.

‘Please don’t!’ she finally gasps.

He either doesn’t hear, or ignores her. He yanks the belt from around her hips in two quick tugs. Then he spins her around and pushes her against the wall, her breasts flattening against cold plaster. His free hand clamps around the back of her neck, holding her there like an animal.

She's mute with confusion and fear as he methodically unclasps her bra and pulls her trousers down. They pool around her ankles, and she steps out of them, thinking that if she plays along he might stay relatively calm. She’s trying not to think about where he could go from here. He could do anything. He could kill her. Who would condemn him, anyway? She’s in naught but her boots and knickers, cheek against the plaster, staring wide-eyed at nothingness.

‘How much to use this on you?’ he asks, and brushes the cold leather of the belt against her thigh.

Her eyes dart around desperately.

‘I – I don’t – ’

He tuts. ‘Don't make me ask you again.’

If she can’t stop him, she needs to think of a way to at least limit him. Gem does this all the time, right? It can't be that bad.

‘Five thousand per three lashes.’

It’s a ridiculous price, but he accepts it. The weight on her neck moves down to settle between her shoulder blades, pressing her breasts further against the cold. Then – there’s a second of silence, a rustle as he moves behind her.

She hears a whip of leather – and a _whack_ fills her ears before the pain arrives. Then her body tenses up as the sting spreads horribly through her chest and bum. Her lungs shrivel up with how cold the pain feels.  

He whips her again, and her mouth opens, unable to draw breath. Then the belt lashes across the backs of her thighs, and this time she screams.

The belt clatters to the floor. She’s shuddering from shock. It feels like he’s ripped her skin off.

‘Spread your legs.’

She complies, feet stepping clumsily apart. His body heat pools over her naked skin as he comes closer. One hand still weighs on her neck as the other runs down her spine. His touch feels deceptively gentle, and she’s gritting her teeth as he caresses her abused backside, fingers skimming over the torn fabric of her knickers. Then he dips between her cheeks at the base, fingers seeking the warm junction between her thighs. She makes a strangled noise when he finds it – he burrows into the cotton, pressing it up between the lips of her sex.

‘How much to penetrate you?’ he says in that deep, rumbling voice.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she sobs.

‘This is what you provide, isn’t it? Tell me how much.’

Tears creep out of the corners of her eyes as she tries to think of another way of limiting him. Something jolts through her belly when he touches her clit, and she fights the urge to lock her legs together.

‘Tell me how much, Chimera,’ he insists.

‘You probably couldn't afford it,’ she says.

He chuckles at this. ‘I suppose your employer would be interested in hearing about how much you charged me today. Am I not just an average customer, like the rest? What do you charge them?’

‘I don’t know. Ten thousand an hour?’

‘Done,’ he murmurs.

He nudges the band of her knickers aside, and his bare fingertips slide up her slick folds, exploring her contours. Fear has always made her gush, and she closes her eyes with embarrassment. He must think she’s enjoying this.

‘You shouldn't be so tense,’ he says. Then he sinks one finger into her, and she bites her lip. ‘According to the logic of your job, money makes this consensual.’    

‘Is that what you think?’ she mutters. ‘You kidnap me and drag me here and call that consent?’

‘Doesn’t money make up for anything your clients might choose to do to you?’ His lips brush her ear as he speaks – he’s standing intimately close now, his body an inescapable wall. ‘Tell me, Chimera – what have you allowed yourself to do for money, that you would never have done otherwise?’

He draws out of her, and she hears him sucking on his fingers before reaching down again – and he stretches her with two fingers this time. She bites back a moan as he presses a spot deep inside her, unwanted heat spreading in her belly.

‘I was paid to meet you,’ she says, too out of her mind for caution. ‘If I could take that back now, I’d chuck all of Genesis’s money in the gutter.’

He laughs again.

‘I don’t think so.’

She feels sharp ridges in her neck – then something hot and wet, and _pain_ , and she realizes he’s biting her. She tenses, her whole body arching between his mouth and the two fingers inside her. She cries out as he rolls the sensitive muscles gently between his teeth, then he kisses up her neck, biting her earlobe and pressing his open mouth against the shell of her ear. 

‘Whatever I do to you now, you know full well that your employer will be ecstatic that I’ve had you,’ he murmurs. ‘He worships the same god that you do. You forsake your dignity for monetary gain – that is the path you’ve chosen, isn’t it? And that is what makes you despicable. That is what makes your little delusions of grandeur completely ridiculous. You chose to be filth, so that is what you should remain.’

While he’s talking he stretches her with a third finger, and she moans as he fills her, the heat in her belly coiling like a snake. It feels horribly good, and she doesn’t understand how her body can feel that way when he’s spewing hatred in her ears – it’s almost worse than feeling pain. At least pain is straightforward violence. This, on the other hand… she tries to stay quiet as her legs tremble, her heart hammering painfully against the wall.

‘Is that why you hate us so much?’ she says. ‘Because we’re trying to break out of a system that won’t let us do anything more than just survive?’

‘Plenty of slum girls manage to live well without resorting to this. The contents of your bank account should never justify immoral behaviour.’

‘Look who’s talking.’

‘Well, well,’ he says, and she feels him smile against her ear. His fingers are coaxing so much pleasure out of her that she’s dripping into his hand. ‘It seems you’ve wrapped yourself up in a comfortable nest of lies. Let me put it in simple terms for you.’

He nips at her earlobe again, before murmuring in her ear; ‘This society is built on ancient values – on principles that make us who we are.’ His fingers hook inside her, and she scrapes the paint off the wall. He goes on; ‘There will always be a hierarchy, as long as a community wants to thrive. The higher ranks may have their faults, but they are responsible for so much cultural advancement that they should be exempt from judgment, to a certain extent. Now, women like _you_ – ’ Here, his fingers press against her deepest wall, and her whole body seems to light up from the inside. ‘ – you would pull us back into individualism, into attitudes that spit on what society stands for, instead of choosing the harder path. Just so you can check your bank account at the end of the day, and feel satisfied that you earn the same as men who have actually contributed to their society.’

The pleasure in her body – the way her reddened skin seems to stretch uncomfortably all over her, and the pure hatred he‘s brewing inside her – she’s reaching breaking point. If he wants to kill her, then so be it. She won’t allow him to enjoy one more second of whatever sick game this is.  

‘What about you?’ she seethes against the wall. ‘You think your paycheck’s justified because you contribute to this sick society? After going to war to shove your _cultural advancement_ down other people’s throats – after slaughtering entire families and cleaning the blood off your clothes – do you check your bank account and feel like it’s all as it should be?’

He stills behind her. Then his fingers are gone, as well as the weight against her back. She dares to turn around and look over at him. He’s lowered his chin, and he’s staring at her with a terrifying stillness. His hands have balled into fists.

This is it. He’s decided to kill her. Heart hammering, she does the only thing that feels appropriate – she smiles.

‘All’s fair in love and war, right?’ she says.

He hits her so hard across the face that she doesn’t even realize she’s falling until the hardwood knocks the air out of her lungs. Instead of attending to the pain, she scrambles to her hands and knees, pulling herself across the floor. She looks around herself, breathing hard, trying to find a weapon of some kind – he’s standing over her as she crawls, drags herself, and then she’s reached the coffee table but there’s nothing on it except notes. She feels panic threatening to overtake her again. Her face is set as she keeps looking, hair whipping around her shoulders.

Wait.

Her hair.

The materia. The materia in her hair.

She turns in time to see Sephiroth winding her belt through its buckle, creating a noose as he steps up to her. The power in her veins shimmers as she asks the orb of Mako to help her – and then the fire bursts from her palms, and she gives a feral yell as she throws it at him. Sephiroth is buffeted by the fireball, eyes widening in surprise as he steps back. The flames crawl over the expensive fabric of his shirt, so he quickly pops the buttons and throws it away. The sight of his impressively carved abdomen only emphasizes how helpless she is before him – but she isn’t helpless, damn it,  _she isn’t helpless._ Encouraged by the power of the materia, she sends another burst of flames at him.

Somehow, impossibly, he waves it away. Makes it evaporate.

She stares. She’s never seen someone do that. But the millisecond of hesitation dooms her – he drops to his knees, straddling her legs. She turns back onto her hands and knees and tries to crawl away – but he reaches and loops the belt around her neck. Before she realizes what he’s doing, he gives it a pull and the belt tightens. She rasps, trying to take in air before her throat is closed off completely.

He doesn’t speak. He keeps the belt taut with one hand so that she has to keep her head up and her back arched if she wants to breathe. She scrapes the floor with her nails, trying to crawl forwards, but the panic of being choked overtakes everything else.

There’s the sound of a zip, and then the head of his cock presses down between the folds of her sex. She has a brief thought for how hard he feels – he’s turned on by this, isn’t he – so much for immorality, she wants to say, but then his cock enters her and her mind goes blank.

She loses track of how much time passes as he fucks her – she only knows that she can’t breathe – can’t see – can’t feel anything other than that searing shape inside her. She needs to breathe. If she doesn’t breathe soon, she’ll – Gaia – 

‘ _Stop it – please, STOP – '_

He mercifully decides to give the belt some slack, and she gasps air in, collapsing onto her elbows. There’s something cold against her skin. Looking around, she realizes he’s let go of the belt completely. It’s trailing along her arm, and she’s so busy breathing that she doesn’t think of pulling it off her throat. She’s still groggy with oxygen deprivation when he withdraws and flips her onto her back.

His eyes burn a path across her nakedness as he looks at her body, his silver hair spilling messily over his chest. He nudges her legs apart, slides up against her, elbows on either side of her arms as he traps her there. When he thrusts inside her again she tilts her head back and takes it wordlessly.

He seems unable to take his eyes off her as he fucks her. The belt hangs loosely around her neck, and she digs her nails into his back as she tries to take his girth. At one moment their eyes meet, and she wonders if he realizes what his face is doing – the more they look at each other, the deeper his frowns gets. He looks almost confused. Like he can’t remember why he’s doing this. Or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking – he breaks the gaze off, turning his head into her neck as he keeps going. Aeris lets out a tortured moan as the pain builds inside her.

‘If this is a lesson in morality,’ she whispers against his ear, ‘then you're the one on the receiving end.’

He responds by thrusting harder, and she bites her lip to shreds.  

‘You can hurt me all you like,’ she gasps. ‘You still wouldn’t be making a statement.’

‘You’re a slow learner, aren’t you?’ he says. He looks down at her again as he stills, eyes glowing eerily in the shadow of his hair.

‘There’s nothing to learn,’ she mutters. ‘Only that you can’t seem to make up your mind.’

‘Oh?’

‘You said it was slavery to bind something to you without its consent,’ she says. ‘You said there was nothing indecent about the human body. And yet here we are.’

‘You remember that?’

‘Of course.’

‘So you  _do_  understand what comes out of my mouth sometimes.’

‘I understand how badly you need your little hierarchy,’ she breathes. ‘You probably changed your mind about this a while back, right? But you can’t just admit that you might be wrong.’   

For all response, he grips the belt again and she closes her eyes to concentrate on breathing, not fainting – breathing, not fainting.

She vaguely registers the sound of him coming – some kind of sigh, something happening – her eyes are closed, she doesn’t see. She feels him pull out of her, cold air greeting her inflamed folds, and her legs slowly come together. When she opens her eyes again he’s kneeling next to her, taking the belt from around her throat.

The return to consciousness is slow. She pushes herself up into a sitting position, vaguely aware that she’s free, that she should be running. Her hair is sticking to her face with the sweat, and she’s deliriously picking it out of her mouth instead of getting up.

Sephiroth watches her for a moment, before getting up to button his trousers. When she looks up she realizes that it’s been a while since the sun sank beneath the horizon – the blue lights of the city are making his skin glow, instilling a curious blue shine in his eyes.  

Gathering all her courage, she uses the coffee table to push herself up. She can't even close her thighs without contributing to the pulsing burn between her legs.

‘The bathroom’s over there,’ he says curtly. ‘Go wash yourself.’

**•**

Her mind is a blank slate as she staggers to her feet, making her way blindly towards the appointed room. Once inside, she shuts herself in the glass case of the shower. Her entire body aches so much. When the hot water hits her skin she lets out an unconscious sigh of relief as it pummels her sore muscles. She slides down the shower wall, sitting on the cool white tiles with her knees coming up in a fetal position. One hand comes up to test her cheekbone and the arch of her eyebrow; she winces at the electric jolts that skitter across her skull at the contact. She's staring into space, hesitantly probing at different parts of her body – and when she absently looks down and sees the red in the swirling water, she starts trembling, hugging her knees against her.

She’s never felt so thoroughly alone. Boss always made it feel like he could protect her, like there was always some kind of safety net - and like an idiot, she went and hurled herself into empty air, hoping for the best. Did she really believe she was that invulnerable? She feels so stupid, so arrogant. She really had no idea about the real world, did she? 

For the first time since she started this job, the concept of money for sex feels utterly foreign. She wants to set Sephiroth’s money on fire rather than accept it. She tries to tell herself, it wasn’t sex, it was rape – it wasn’t sex, it was _rape_ – but if she’s only beginning to mark the difference now, then how many times has she unwittingly let her clients rape her? What if Sephiroth was right? What if that's all her job is? Opening her thighs and accepting anything as long as there’s money going in the bank? The girls always cheer her up after bad bookings, telling her that there will always be shitty clients, it’s just a risk of the job. But… Sephiroth’s poisonous words seep further into her mind as she recalls all those times she’s stared up at the ceiling and tried not to scream, or thought hard of what she would do with the money in order to get through it. What’s the difference between a good and a bad booking, if it’s just another man treating her like an expensive object? Even the clients who bring her jam pots or little boxes of treats, they never really cared about her. They probably just pitied her. Poor little doll. Poor little whore. She’s never felt so dirty, so covered in the gunk of their judgment. She wants to scrape the skin off her body.

She's bowing her head as the thoughts invade her. She can't handle the idea of leaving this shower. If she goes out, not only is there the world to face, but  _him_  too. The apartment seems like an entire ocean that she has to get across before she can escape. She closes her eyes, rocking back and forth as she tries to pull herself out of her whirring anxiety.

 _Planet_ , she calls to the world under the floor, the ground that’s so far underneath her. _Have I spoiled everything? Have I spoiled myself?_ She reaches and reaches, and there’s a whisper floating in her mind, a silver mist settling in her body. She sighs, listening for the voices of her Planet, listening for someone to tell her that it would all be alright.

She feels the acceptance, the motherly embrace, and for a moment she thinks she’s gathered enough courage to get out of the shower. It's not that far. It won't be that hard to get out of here. She only has to get a grip and try to think sensibly.

In the second that follows her slight regain of confidence, her instincts tell her that she's not alone. Her thoughts screech to a halt and she snaps her head up.

He's on the other side of the glass.

She doesn't even think – her body moves by itself, arms coming out to pull herself into a corner of the shower. Shampoo bottles clatter across the tiles as she presses her sore back against the coolness of the wall, staring hard at the figure who's opening the glass panel. She's breathing heavily, unable to look away, as if looking at him hard enough might make him disintegrate and so end the nightmare.

He's crouching at the entrance of the shower so that he's at her height. He looks inquisitive, as if she isn't living up to his expectations, isn't fulfilling the proper role that he'd imagined she'd play in tonight's game. What would that role have been, anyway? Was she supposed to have bowed her head and said, 'Yes, I'm a filthy whore, thank you for the revelation'? Didn't he believe she could possibly defend her own choices?

A few seconds go by. Dark flecks of humidity appear on his clothes as the water reaches him, but he doesn't seem to notice. Then he sighs, and to her horror he extends a hand towards her – she gulps down one last breath as she tenses up, feeling the imaginary lash against her skin. But it never comes. Instead, a green glow emanates from his palm, and an oddly soothing sensation pools over her lower belly. She feels the burn ebbing away as the micro-lesions between her legs close up, and a few seconds later the pain has all but vanished. She can't repress a small sigh of relief, still facing the wall.

He retracts his hand, and she forces herself to look over at him.

‘Look, I'm not sure...’ he says gruffly, not meeting her eye. ‘I’m not sure we fully understood each other.’

He reaches back, scooping his great white mass of hair with one arm and heaving it distractedly over one shoulder while she stares at him mutely, waiting for his next unexpected move. 

‘Come out of there, the water will go cold soon.’

He straightens up, throws one lingering glance in her direction, and walks away.

**•**

One toe, and then another. A leg, crowned by a mottled knee and bruised hip. Part by part her body reappears in the living room; she's wrapped up in a towel, eyes looking around herself like a trapped animal.  _What's he planning to do now?_

He's standing in his kitchen, and there's the sound of pouring water; he turns his head to the side when she steps forwards.

‘I found something for you.’ He nods at the sofa. ‘Get dressed.’

 _Planet, what's he playing at?_ Heart thumping, she looks around the room to see with what she's supposed to be getting dressed since he effectively tore her last set of clothes to shreds. There's a simple black dress draped over the armchair. For a minute she wonders how Sephiroth could possess a lady's garment if she was supposedly the first lady to ever see his interior design, as Genesis so charmingly put it. Perhaps Genesis was the one who supplied it to him. She pushes Genesis out of her mind, unable to stomach the idea of hating another man as strongly as she hates Sephiroth right now.

Warily, she goes over to the dress and tries to contort her arms so that the towel still covers her while she slips the dress over her head.

She stands behind the couch nervously, eyes flickering to the door every two seconds as he potters around in his kitchen. Then he turns around, two steaming mugs clutched in his hands.

‘I made some tea, if you’d like some.’

She stares at him. She has no idea what to say to that. What to do. He comes to the coffee table, sets the mugs down and sits in the couch, waiting for her to say something.

‘It's just,’ she manages to say, ‘you rape me, and then you offer me _tea_.’

‘Don't say that,’ he says, looking over at her sharply. ‘I didn't rape you.’

She raises her eyebrows. He can’t be serious. 

‘I’ll admit, I was more violent than I intended. But it wasn't rape,’ he insists, sitting down on the sofa.

‘Oh.’ And here she was thinking he was confident enough in his dominant role to take responsibility for his actions. She edges away from him and forces herself to perch at least on the armrest when he motions for her to sit down, her gut obliging her to obey him.

‘Like I said.’ He leans over to take his mug. ‘It was a lesson.’

Silence. She looks at the coffee table, suddenly noticing that the scattered notes are all gathered in one great wad, held together by a black ribbon. The wad is sitting atop Zack's folded trousers. Even the belt is set in the loops again.

‘I thought we might… talk about it.’

‘No, no, it’s fine, I understood the lesson,’ she breathes, feeling his presence in the corner of her eye as heavily as if she were crushed between him and the floor again.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

Anything, anything for him to stay in his calm and apparently sobered mood. Just long enough for her to be able to escape intact.

He sighs. Sips at his mug. Surely he can feel her nervousness making ripples in the air. She fidgets, trying to gather the courage to speak – but he fulfills her request without her even asking.

‘You can go.’

She gets up as though loosened from a crossbow, gathering up her things against her chest and bolting over to the entrance to slip into her shoes. Her heart is racing at the idea of her imminent freedom – but then as she feels him coming closer to her she shrinks back against the wall, hugging her things against her like a shield.

He gives her another one of his inquiring gazes, before inserting a key card in order to get rid of the automatic locking mechanism. And she slips under his arm without further ado, disappearing into the corridor and leaving him with the lingering contact of her head against his arm, and a whiff of vanilla perfume.

**• • •**

Both women start upon seeing the waif that exits the night train, stepping out into the windy darkness of the slum station. They can't decide whether they should give her space or rush to meet her; the wind is whipping her loose hair into a great black banner, and the dim white lamplight touches her cheekbones, throwing her eyes into shadow.

Hegemony is the first to snap out it. She strides across the platform and firmly takes the girl's arm, asking her if she's alright. She tilts Aeris's chin up so that her face might meet the light – and her eyes widen as she sees that the black around the girl's eye wasn't just shadows. Speckles of red and violet run along her left cheekbone, arching up over her eyebrow and reaching one side of her nose. The colour gains in density and veers to black as it reaches her lowered eyelid, and the popped veins in her eye make the green iris even clearer, as though she's gone blind.

Harmony takes her other arm, making Aeris wince.

‘What's up with the fucking cryptic – texts - where the fuck have you been?’ The words fly from her mouth, clearly contained for several hours. ‘Boss wouldn’t tell us where you were, kept saying some bullshit about a VIP client – ’

Gem looked over at her exasperatedly. ‘I told you, she was at the hospital.‘

‘Shut up, just – stop reminding me what a fucking lousy friend you are.’

‘She's a free woman, Harmony. I wasn't going to just stop her.’

‘You could've advised her  _not_  to play the kamikaze instead of getting all drunken-patriotic and pushing her into harm's way.’

‘Stop it, please,’ Aeris says. ‘It’s not Gem’s fault.’

Harmony looks down at her, and takes a sharp breath as she sees the bruise. ‘Tell me who did this, and I swear – ‘ she growls, so angry she can't even unclench her teeth. But then Aeris’s legs give away, so both women guide her down onto the floor. Aeris holds onto their arms, fingers clamped tight around their wrists.

‘I couldn’t remember the code,’ she says. She looks up at Hegemony with her good eye. ‘The code you say when you’re not safe. I couldn’t remember. I…’

Gem frowns. Then she glances over at Harmony, her face full of pained understanding. Both women only hug Aeris harder, allowing her to appreciate the cocoon of warmth and protection for a few minutes.

‘It’s OK, honey,’ Harmony says. ‘Let’s get you home. We’ll take care of you.’

**• • •**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entirely new content in this chapter. :D It's a bit of a challenge to do a rewrite and publish as I go along, so if you spot any continuity errors then please do point them out! Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting <3 Very sorry to have left you on such a sour note for so long! I'm going to try and get back into publishing every Sunday, so we'll see how that goes.

• • •

 

Aeris has never been the type to look for help. As long as she can remember, she has always dealt with her own problems alone. This occurs with children who grow up surrounded by glass walls and flashing LED lights instead of mothers and fathers; the knowledge that there is no one to turn to. It becomes a shameful thing, to yearn to be tucked away in the safety of other people’s homes.

But this time she has friends. Harmony’s house is above a Wall Market shop; they have to walk through gridded displays of weaponry and watered-down potions before they get to her rickety staircase. Aeris has a thought for how close Harmony is allowing her to get as she climbs up. Inside, it’s all colourful drapes hung to the walls, books and duvets and cats, fairy lights hanging around the single window. There’s a tiny kitchenette in one corner. She shares the bathroom with the shop keeper – she explains to them how he’s subletting to her, and how many houses their landowner collects rent for. Gem asks who it is, and they talk for a moment about slumlords and the differences of rent prices in each sector. Aeris is glad for the small talk. She follows the discussions of territory prices, imagining the long lines of people waiting by the single water faucet that supplies their block of houses, visualizing her own comparatively luxurious house with its running water and its bath. It seems logical, when Gem and Harmony talk about it – that any job is worth taking when the goal is running water and electricity and good mattresses and more than one dress to wear a day. It seems so normal. Harmony takes a beer bottle from the windowsill and chucks it at Gem, who presses the cold glass against Aeris’ bad eye. Then Harmony puts a pot of water on her tiny stove, boiling it for tea and Gem wraps a duvet around Aeris, cozying up next to her on a futon and for a moment, everything feels OK, everything feels safe.

Then Hegemony says, ‘Do you want to talk about it, love?’, with such a soft voice that Aeris feels like she’s made of glass all over again, and she shatters into pieces.       

There’s a lot of shoulder rubbing and Harmony putting a hot cup of tea between her hands and then Gem says something about one of the cats looking like a barrel, and Aeris opens her good eye, blinded behind a film of tears. The cat looks like a beige lump with four tiny paws sticking out, and she can’t help it, she smiles – Gem catches it and sticks it in her lap and Aeris is crying for different reasons now. There isn’t a single empty space around her, with Gem and the cat and the wall and the tea pressing into her, and she sinks into the feeling of being cradled. Protected.

It takes her a few more minutes for her breaths to calm down. Gem is stroking ‘Mr Chubbychubs’ and Harmony corrects her with a snooty ‘he’s called _Don Corneo_ , I’ll have you know’, and Gem gives a drawn-out ‘aaaah’ of recognition. Aeris is only vaguely aware of what they’re talking about as they reminisce about this Don Corneo guy. Then Harmony mentions that he was the previous Bee owner and she frowns, brushing away her tears.

‘How long have you guys been doing this?’ she asks timidly, and both women immediately turn to her, letting their bickering die out.

‘Oh, gods,’ Harmony says. ‘You’re going to make me feel old!’

‘You _are_ old,’ Gem sneers.

‘I started when I was still a minor, if I’m honest.’

‘Snap!’ Gem flings up a hand, and they give each other a high five.

Aeris watches them enjoy their usual dark humour, eyes widening at the implications.

‘For me it was because of your standard bad relationship and all that,’ Harmony elaborates, winking as though this is a universally understood problem amongst women. Aeris thinks of Zack, and now this, drawing parallels that make her feel horrid.

‘What did he do?’ she asks.

‘Oh, you know. He tried to make me into his own personal slave,’ Harmony says with a shrug. ‘I couldn’t talk to my family, couldn’t leave the house unaccompanied, and all of the little perks that come with sharing a house with a violent drunk. Got into the work so I could leave him and our overpriced Sector 2 shack.’ She stretches out her arms. ‘This is my palace, now! It’s still a shack, and still overpriced, but it’s all mine _._ ’

Gem is nodding like she’s heard all this before. Then she says, ‘Not the same reasons for me, but I got into it when I was thirteen. Big family meant work for everyone, and no exceptions.’

Encouraged by their utter honesty, Aeris licks her lips and says, ‘Have you ever… have you ever had doubts? ’

Harmony frowns. ‘Doubts about what, honey?’

Gem tilts the beer bottle against Aeris’ eye again and for a moment they giggle at the awkwardness of the pose. ‘I’ll try not to poke your eye out,’ Gem promises, and Aeris is comfortable enough to say it differently;

‘Have you ever wondered if you’re being… spoilt by the job?’

‘Oh, I’m spoilt alright,’ Gem says, running her free hand down the expensive-looking clothes she’s wearing. Harmony snorts, saying something about her ridiculous sense of style, so Aeris frowns and tries again.

‘No. I don’t mean that. I meant…’ She sighs. The lump in her throat won’t go away. ‘I meant when something bad happens, and – you realize that maybe you’ve never really been OK with the whole concept, maybe you’ve just been lying to yourself this whole time – ’

Gem squeezes her gently. ‘I know what you mean. And yeah, I’ve felt like that. Truth is, whatever anyone says, it’s still just a service job. People are going to treat you like shit whether you’re selling them sex or mineral water. Nobody likes pay walls, especially when women are the ones putting them up.’

‘But,’ Aeris mumbles, ‘it isn’t mineral water that we’re selling, is it? It’s something far more precious – something that shouldn’t have a price – ’

‘Are you kidding?’ Harmony huffs. ‘Everyone pays for sex, one way or another. The difference is that our prices are right there on the door.’

‘And if you ask me, priced water is a far more ridiculous concept,’ Gem says. ‘Genesis told me about how, in Wutai, they have this system of canals and wells – no one pays for their water, you just open your door and go to your back garden well and slosh some in your bucket whenever you want – none of this ‘line up at the tap from nine to twelve and pay on your way out’ nonsense.’

It makes so much sense when they say it. Aeris is nodding, putting down her tea so she can stroke Don Corneo’s soft beige fur.

‘If you feel like the job is doing you more harm than good, then of course you should back out for a while. But you’re not a bloody fruit, are you, you don’t get _spoilt_ after a few bumps and bruises _._ If that’s what the VIP client was telling you then he’s full of it,’ Harmony says. Aeris can’t help smiling at that. Harmony tilts her head to the side and adds, ‘Where’s all this coming from, anyway? You’ve always had your head on your shoulders, Chimera. Was your client implying that you were committing sacrilege or something?’

The word _‘client_ ’ fills her head with silver hair and tight belts and she’s breathing in and out, staring sightlessly in front of her.

‘That’s what happened, right?’ Harmony asks gently. ‘It was a paying client?’

‘I don’t know,’ Aeris murmurs. Then, encouraged by the girls’ fearless manners, she goes on; ‘There was money exchanged, yeah. But I didn’t want any of it to happen. He sort of… took me to his place without asking permission, and thought paying made it alright.’

‘Bastard,’ Harmony growls through gritted teeth. ‘Who was he, anyway? We should tell Boss so we can blacklist him.’

‘It doesn’t matter who he is,’ Gem says firmly. ‘He doesn’t matter, his opinions don’t matter, and he can go cook himself in Hades’ pot for all we care. The important thing is that you’re down here, you’re safe, and you don’t ever have to see him again.’

The way she grips Aeris’s shoulders makes Aeris think that she knows exactly who she was with. Aeris wonders for a moment how much Gem told Harmony, exactly – but if Harmony hasn’t guessed, then she probably doesn’t know the whole story. Aeris is relieved that only one person in this room knows the extent of her stupidity, for her to go up against the man who single-handedly conquered the world.

They wind down after that. Harmony gives them all of her cats’ backstories, Gem pokes fun at her crazy cat lady ways, and Aeris wonders whether to heal herself but this is all she needs right now – girls like her, talking like normal people, crawling across the floor playing with cats like any other kid. They aren’t the monsters Sephiroth thinks they are. They’re miles away from being monsters. She watches Hegemony spin around herself, trying to catch the cat that’s playing with her corset laces, and something about the innocence of the scene fills her body with more heat than her healing winds ever could.

The three of them cozy up on the futons, Harmony tucked on one side and snoring away after five minutes, Hegemony in the middle. She’s lying on her side, facing Aeris. They breathe in the dark, listening to the sounds of the Wall Market outside: the hiss of the restaurant kitchens, the occasional drunks shouting at dustbins, the dogs yapping and fighting in the alleyways. Gem’s eyes glisten in the dark as she gazes at her friend. Aeris can hardly keep her eyes open, but the agony around her eye is keeping her awake. 

‘Does your mother know where you are?’ Gem says. Aeris has told her bits and bobs – the pseudo-relationship with Zack, the fact that she lives with her mother (it’s easier to just say mother), but never anything precise like Sectors or full names. Guiltily, Aeris wriggles and gets her phone out to write a text. She doesn’t want her mother to know. She wants her mother to keep believing that everything’s fine – that she’s in control of her life.

Aeris sends off the text, and Gem smiles at her, satisfied. 

After a few seconds, Aeris whispers, ‘Can Boss really blacklist him?’

Gem sighs. ‘I don’t know, darling. I’ve never heard of Boss blacklisting someone as important as him. And you saw how eager he was for it to happen, too, buying you that dress and everything.’

Cold seeps into Aeris’ chest as Gem confirms her knowledge of the aggressor. Gem goes on: ‘I remember one of the girls complaining about Heidegger, once – Boss kicked up a fuss about how his patronage brought more Upworlders for everyone, so the girl should either recommend someone else to him or suck it up.’

‘Gaia, I never thought Boss could be so cold. I thought he was meant to be on our side.’ Aeris’ fingers curl into fists in the duvet, so Gem reaches over to squeeze her shoulder.

‘I told you, love. Better to look out for each other than trust the businessmen.’

‘What do I do, then? Do I even tell him it went badly?’ She sighs. ‘What would you do?’

They are silent for a moment. Gem’s eyes glaze over, as though sinking deep into the past. ‘Once, back when I was still working for an independent madam – Stig, that was what I knew her by – something bad happened. Guy beat me up real bad, cut me in places you don’t want to get cut. Real nutjob.’

‘Oh, Gem.’

‘Stig was a stickler for money, but she was also very protective of her girls. She controlled all the bookings, and this guy hadn’t paid up, so I had to tell her that something had happened or I’d get punished. I told her about this guy, not exactly high-profile but he did have a job at the ShinRa HQ – so not exactly a nobody, either. He liked doing what he wanted to slum girls because he knew the law doesn’t protect us. Stig went Upworld, found out where he lived. Came back down with the guy’s severed balls in a little pouch.’    

‘ _No_.’ Aeris is horrified – and yet – _thrilled_ by the idea.

‘If I were in your place,’ Gem whispers, her eyes are wild and bright, ‘I would tear the man down, Chime. I would take it in my own hands and ruin his goddamn life.’

Aeris’s heart is pounding. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He took what he wanted because he knew I couldn’t do anything to him. And, Boss would never sanction any violence against someone as high-up as that.’

Gem’s mouth quirks into a grin. ‘I know, I know. He’s no Stig, which is unfortunate.’ Then she sighs, weighing the situation. ‘Whether you tell Boss or not, he’s very likely not going to do anything about it. I’d say warn the girls, instead, and take a break to recover.’

‘What if Sephiroth comes calling again? I’ll have to accept?’

‘Unless he wrestles you into his car again, you don’t have to accept a goddamn thing,’ Gem says. ‘He can give Boss as much money as he wants, you’re still the one who has the choice of going Upworld or not. If you want, I can get you a gun. Teach you how to shoot.’

Aeris grins at that, and snuggles against her friend, holding her close. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers against Gem’s chest, and the two girls curl up under the duvet, holding each other, breaths mingling in the darkness. When Aeris bristles and sighs out a green mist, Gem’s eyes widen, watching as the ghostly tendrils surround her friend. She’s seen it happen before, but she never ceases to be amazed – she watches as Aeris’s black eye fades, and her body relaxes, her skin forgetting all its bad memories.

 

• • •

 

It’s very difficult. _Very_ difficult to just take the booking like nothing’s happened.

Hegemony studies the instructions that Genesis has sent her. She’s to meet him in an opera house, pretend not to know him. Steer him away. Abuse him. It’s all pretense, it’s what he’s paying for. But all she can think of as she goes over the lines are the words he spoke to Chimera. _There, now. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?_ The way he’d evaded her questions about why he was interested in her. About why he’d thrown her right into the arms of a fucking psychopath. Had Genesis known about Sephiroth’s little tendencies? Then again how could Genesis _not_ have known?

It’s been a week. Chimera took her advice and hasn’t been back to the Bee – Boss only knows that she’s taking a break. He’d raged to Gem about how bad it was for business for her to back out when she had only just landed the jackpot – but Gem had only stared him down, reminding him that he was their glorified agent, and that he shouldn’t have a say in how they cope with the job. She has hated him all week long, as well as every single man that came in through the front doors. And now she’s finding it difficult not to hate the man whose elegant handwriting is feeding her this deranged script.

 She goes through the motions. Dresses up in a perfect imitation of an upper-middle-class woman, fake diamonds in her ears, velvet dress hugging her body. She arrives at the opera house at the appointed time, finds the balcony seat that Genesis has bought for her. Ten minutes later, he sits down next to her, not looking at her. He’s in a crisp burgundy suit, hair slicked back. She looks at him, and she hates how the anger fades when she takes in his cheekbones, his long lashes, the elegant line of his mouth. She hates how easy it is for her to slip into character, how she always wants to please him. This has been their game for so long that it’s hard to taint it with any negativity. Not to mention, she knows that he’s been bouncing back and forth between the Launch Pad and Midgar, correcting his mistakes whilst being strictly surveilled by the ShinRa board, so she has no right to bring the world and all its ugliness into their safe space.

The memorized instructions flow out of her as naturally as the air she breathes as she allows her forearm to touch his on the armrest. He doesn’t stir, keeps his eyes glued on the stage as the singing continues. She brushes the backs of her gloved fingers against his. His thighs shift, and he moves away, feigning discomfort. She reaches down, hand gliding slowly over his thigh. She burrows between them. Soon, she’s cupping the bulge in his trousers and he’s finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes on the stage. His mouth is parted, eyes heavy-lidded as he lets her fondle him.

After a few minutes, as per their script, he takes her by the wrist, pushes her hand away. Glares at her with those electric blue eyes. They repeat this game a few times, before he gets up and pretends to storm off indignantly. She waits, then gets up and follows him. He’s gone down the carpeted corridor, towards one of the empty dressing rooms reserved for the stars of the show – they’ll be vacant for the next thirty minutes, according to his instructions. He’s pretending to be on his phone, turning his back to her. Gem’s heels knock into the carpet, announcing her presence – he turns around, feigning fear, though she can clearly see that flicker of delight in his eyes. She grabs him by the arm, pulls him into the dressing room. Shuts the door, pushes him up against it.

‘What do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!’

‘I saw how you were squirming back there,’ she purrs. ‘You were loving it, weren’t you? Opening your thighs for me like a little slut.’

They go on in this vein, him telling her no, please, let go of me, I don’t want to – her touching him, gripping the expensive fabrics of his suit, biting his throat. He struggles as weakly as if he were a normal man, containing the superhuman strength that she can feel under her fingers, hard and unyielding. In minutes, she has him bending over one of the dressing tables, trousers yanked down around his thighs, her fingers working one of their toys inside him and he’s grabbing at her, whispering desperately, stop, please, please you’re hurting me, and she’s telling him all sorts of humiliating things. And though the words roll easily off her tongue after years of experience, she can’t help it – can’t help seeing Chimera in Genesis’s position and there being _nothing_ consensual about it, and she’s grinding her teeth as she slaps and scrapes and penetrates him with all the roughness he’d asked for. Halfway through their allotted time, she’s sitting on the edge of the table, thighs open as she forces his head between them, and she’s looking down at the ginger crown of his hair, the way he’s grasping onto the drawn-up hem of her dress. She’s frowning, and it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear the blaring question in her mind – _why do you like this?_

He glances up at her when she takes too long to come up with one of their agreed lines, encouraging her to call him worthless, scum, filth of the earth – she opens her mouth, willing herself to say something, but she’s too preoccupied. It doesn’t feel right.

‘Am I doing it right, ma’am?’ Genesis asks, lips ghosting against her slick folds. He must be getting impatient if he’s down to vocal prompts.

‘You’ve been doing it wrong since the start. If I’d known how terrible you were, I wouldn’t even have bothered,’ Gem tries valiantly, then she pulls him up. He straightens, standing between her thighs. From the way his eyes have lost their mischievous glimmer, she can tell that he’s understood how uncomfortable she is.

‘Quadra?’ he asks in a sigh. It’s their safeword – he’s asking if she wants to stop. She’s embarrassed that _she’s_ the one who needs to use it, for once - but at the same time, he seems so impatient, almost angry that she would dare to exert her own right to refuse his twisted little games. Right there, his entitlement has her plummeting right back into the zone, that deep red place where she watches the bruises form on his body and enjoys every single moment of it.

She grabs him by the hair, pulling hard so she can growl into his ear, ‘I’m nowhere near finished with you, you dirty little whore.’

A few more moments and they stagger out before the singer in question regains the dressing room, Genesis hastily tucking his shirt back into his beltline, Gem looking completely unruffled if not for the slight flush on her cheeks. Genesis is failing to contain the dazed smile on his face, whilst Gem is still frowning. She wants to be as angry as she was when he wasn’t all up in her face, being his usual irresistible self. Why she can’t just – just fucking _say something_ –

His fingers lace through hers as they make their way down the deserted corridor. She pulls away from him.

‘Alright, what’s wrong?’ Genesis asks.

She’s reminded of the first time he’d ever booked her, how terrified she’d been of offending someone of his calibre. Back then she was always trying to visualize where the line was between contractual friendliness and unprofessional prying. Now, the line is about as obvious as smudged chalk that they’ve both danced over one too many times.

She looks resolutely at Genesis’s face and asks, ‘How long have you been paying girls for your friend?’

It’s far too personal a question and they both know it. He raises an eyebrow like he’s equally surprised that she’s allowing herself such liberties.

‘I might’ve tried two or three times in the past. What’s it to you?’

‘Those other times,’ she says, ‘did anything happen?’

A smile curls at the corner of his mouth. ‘He’s a very difficult man to get to, apparently.’

‘So the girls never succeeded? He’s never – ?’

‘No, he had his fair share of sex back when we were younger. Nowadays though, most of the girls I throw his way don’t even keep his interest past the initial meetings I arrange. Chimera didn’t bore him to tears after the first five minutes, which was a sure sign that it was going somewhere – before Rufus’s party cocked everything up.’

They push past a pair of doors and linger in the stairway, Genesis turning to face her as he wraps a hand around the bannister. ‘If you’re worried about her now, honestly, you’re wasting your time. Last I heard – surprise surprise – he wanted nothing to do with her, and with everything that’s going on at the launch pad I’m not exactly in the right mindset to keep up the effort.’ He ends on a sigh, and reaches up to run his fingers along Gem’s forearm. ‘Whilst I’m in Midgar I’d much rather just focus my attentions on you.’

Gem closes her eyes and breathes through her nose, trying not to let him get to her with that eloquence of his.

‘So he hasn’t told you what happened,’ she says. 

Genesis’s eyes light up, and Hegemony goes very still as she sees his sudden enthusiasm. ‘You mean she broke new ground with him?’ he asks.

‘Broke new ground?’ Gem echoes. ‘More like she’s the one who got broken into. Turns out your friend likes his girls bruised and bloody – and Genesis, if you knew that about him, if you knew – ’ She takes a step back, swallowing past the lump in her throat. ‘If you threw her into that situation knowing full well what could happen – ’

‘What do you mean, what situation?’ he murmurs, though the look on his face betrays just how much he understands.

‘He hurt her,’ Gem snaps. ‘You dangled her in his face for Gaia knows what reason and guess what? The games you play with that man have fucking consequences. And actually, while we’re on the subject,’ she adds while she’s riding on reckless anger; ‘why do you even buy girls for him, if he doesn’t appreciate the effort? Why don’t you just leave him alone since he clearly doesn’t want company?’

Genesis is frowning at the bannister, eyes bright and saccading from side to side as if he’s still calculating the odds of Sephiroth taking the bait this time around. Hegemony throws a hand up and slaps her thigh impatiently.

‘Anytime in the next twenty four hours would be great, Gen.’

‘I – ’ He looks up at her, mouth trying to form words but failing. Then he looks away again, and to her amazement he’s actually trying to repress a smile. ‘It’s just something that I got into the habit of doing, I suppose.’

‘I’m glad you find this funny,’ she spits out. ‘So it wasn’t just two or three times, then? Those girls who knew him when he was younger – did you have to manipulate them into sleeping with him, too? Did you have to blackmail them so they wouldn’t back out?’

‘Be careful what you’re accusing me of, Hegemony,’ Genesis says, eyes darkening. ‘Those girls – it was different. It was a completely different time. And as for Chimera, I never blackmailed her. I only suggested what she should do if she wanted to capture his attention.’

‘Oh, sure. I saw how terrified she was of you at Scarlet’s evening. I heard what you were saying.’ She’s trying hard not to shout, now. ‘What kind of pleasure would you get out of something like this? Furnishing your friend’s sex life with helpless, naïve girls or whatever it is you’re doing?’

‘I don’t _furnish_ – and besides, why do you care?’ Genesis says, his voice sheathed in ice. ‘What I do in my own time is none of your concern.’

‘I care because she’s my _friend_ , Genesis!’ This time she is shouting. ‘I care because _you’re_ my friend, too, I need to know that you wouldn’t do something like this. I need to know that you have the balls to apologize to her, make it up to her somehow, because otherwise you’ll – you’ll have to find yourself another domme.’

She realizes in the next second that it wasn’t the right wording, because she sure as hell isn’t ready to let him go, and she doesn’t want to hear him confirm just how little he cares about replacing her. How it’s her services that he’s in love with – not her. She knows it already, of course she knows. He hasn’t offered her anything particularly exclusive or precious. Not like what she’s offered him. She’s always been reduced to fucking amateurism around him, giving him too much. She turns around to swipe the teary lines of mascara from her cheeks, horrified by this blatant display of weakness. She looks up at the ceiling so the makeup will stop running.

A silence stretches between them.

Then he says, ‘If an apology is needed, I’m sure Chimera would prefer if Sephiroth was the one to issue it.’

‘And how likely is that to happen, do you think?’

The man smirks. ‘You have a point.’

‘Look,’ Gem says, and then sighs as she tries to bring her anger down a notch. ‘Maybe some girls could take this kind of assignment, whatever it is, but not Chimera, OK? Not Chimera. You don’t know her like I do. I’ve never met a girl that’s so – soft and sweet, so _good_ through and through.’

‘Alright.’

Gem looks over at him in surprise. ‘What?’

‘I’ll apologize to her,’ he says simply. ‘Of course I will. Give me her number, I’ll do it right now.’

‘I think she deserves more than a phone call,’ Gem says. ‘I think compensation – ’

‘So I’ll give her money, too,’ Genesis snaps. ‘Are we done here? Are you done?’

He’s never spoken to her so coldly. Hegemony suddenly feels very keenly how he’s slipping through her fingers. How their relationship is beginning to splinter beyond repair.

‘Genesis – ’

He steps closer to her. ‘Of course it was never my intention for Chimera to get hurt,’ he says. ‘I’m going to forget that you implied that, because I know how protective you can get. But my relationship with Sephiroth is none of your concern. If it bothers you so much, if you can’t keep those thoughts out of our sessions – then perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we should stop this.’

‘Genesis,’ she sighs, and she hates herself for how desperately she needs him to stay, to be hers for a little longer. She grasps his hands and he’s looking at her mouth and she _hates_ how much she needs this, needs him, needs to keep pretending that everything is fine.

‘I don’t want this to stop,’ she murmurs.

He leans in, blue eyes glowing in the dark.

‘Good. Because neither do I.’

 

• • •

 

For a while, everything is quiet.

Aeris tells Elmyra that Zack’s away on a mission, and Elmyra is surprised by how melancholic her daughter is for the sake of a boy. But she knows better than to try and make Aeris broach uncomfortable subjects, so she decides not to ask for any details until Aeris is ready to talk.

Aeris tends to her flowers, floats through the Sectors with her basket on her arm, looking around herself like she’s an unmoored ship floating way out at sea. Everything is so familiar but there is no sustenance to be drawn from it, nothing that can ground her the way she wants to be grounded. She meets her old clients, sometimes. Plum Guy buys a flower from her, tells her about how his importing business is going except this time she’s got clothes on while she nods along and it feels weird. He gives her that crinkly smile of his and asks quietly, when are you coming back? Aeris is confused by how genuine her relief is when she hears that she’s missed. She hears herself say, I’m thinking about it. The next day she meets one of her younger clients whilst delivering something for Elmyra and it’s weird again to be saying hello in broad daylight. He doesn’t make any lewd comments like she’d imagined he would. He just gives her a formal nod, a respectful smile. She smiles back. I heard you were taking a break, he says. Everything OK? You’re coming back, right? She only smiles wider. Yeah, she says. Yeah, everything’s good.

Sitting on the swings in the park, she wonders if she misses the Bee as much as it seems to miss her. She would never have expected to miss it. But she does. Thinking about sex still makes her heart pound and her breath shorten, but these men – they know her. Without counting the physical side of things, they know her far more intimately than any of her vanilla friends do. They know the work she does, the risks she takes, the effort she puts in. They can relate to her in ways her vanilla friends can’t. 

She cards her fingers through her flower petals and wonders when she let the Bee wiggle its way quite so deep into her heart. She was wondering whether to quit altogether but this, the flower selling, the wandering… this feels like the past. A temporary step back into the Aeris she used to be. Except she’s grown too big for that body. She’s grown too big for that life. As she sits there with the chains of the swing creaking, she realises that it isn’t self-pity and fear that’s making her feel adrift like this. It’s how much she misses the life she’d made for herself.

She hates Sephiroth all the more for having robbed her of all of the things she identifies with the most. Why should she wallow like this because of what he did to her? Why should she listen to the fear he’s instilled in her mind? She misses Gem. She misses the long nights, the feeling of being part of the secret throbbing heart of the city. And most of all, she misses Zack.

It’s been two weeks since the incident when Aeris decides to charge her mobile to call Zack. She places it on her bedside table, next to three cider bottles she keeps forgetting to put in the trash and the knock-off pills she’s been using to sleep. (She’s pretty sure they’re just sugar, but they still help.) Immediately her phone buzzes with messages as it comes back to life. Most of them are from  Hegemony – pictures of the places she’s been to on the plate, the fancy dinners and BDSM clubs she’s been hired out to by her seemingly endless connections. Aeris smiles. Gem and some other Bee girls promised to send enough messages to drown out Boss’s reminders of her precarious position – and they’ve definitely succeeded. But there are recent messages from Zack too, so Aeris clicks those first.

He’s coming back. He’s accompanying Genesis on one of his short trips back to the city, for the sake of intel-exchange. His messages say something about how difficult it’s been to move around in Genesis’s outposts because of how non-standard the organisation is, and how irritable the man is to work under. They’ve been stuck on defensive duties while Angeal gets all the glory of striking back at Wutai to reinforce the terms of the peace treaty that was blown to pieces. The messages go on to talk about how much he misses her. But she’s too busy reading Genesis’s name over and over, trying to figure out how it makes her feel.

She looks out the window at the golden streetlights, listens to the rush of the waterfall behind her house. The last time she saw Genesis, he’d been walking dejectedly down the corridors of the hospital, pressing his fingers against his eyes. She’d felt so sorry for him. If he’d just booked her for Sephiroth like any other guy trying to lend a helping hand to his friend, then she wouldn’t blame him for how things turned out. But… he did push her into it and threaten consequences if she refused. Didn’t he? He hinted that it was in her best interest to do as he said, but… how had the threat sounded, exactly? Had she imagined it?

She frowns. Her heart is beginning to beat faster and faster so she pushes it out of her head for now, and calls Zack.

 

•

‘Hey babe, how are you? I’ve missed you so much. Did you have your phone off for two whole weeks or something?’

‘… are you with your friends?’

‘Yeah. Sorry. Hey listen, we’re having a bit of a bar crawl right now. You wanna come up and join us?’

‘It’s a bit late to go up by myself, isn’t it?’

‘I’ll come get you, no problem.’

‘Who’s with you?’

‘Oh, just some Second Class losers.’

‘So… Sephiroth isn’t there?’

‘What? No way. He’s still somewhere up north with Tseng, probably doing some dirty work or something. He’ll be back right when we have to bugger off again. We checked with him and we’ll be missing him by like, ten hours or something dumb. Why, did you want to get your flirt on? Is that it? Hmmmm?’

‘Of course not _,_ just – shut up. It’s nothing.’

‘How did the hospital thing go, by the way? You left me hanging in suspense.’

‘It was… fine, nothing happened. Haven’t seen him since.’

‘Really? Hm. Sounds like bullshit – ’

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Zack. Just leave it.’

‘Eh, you can tell me about it when you get here. Shall I meet you at the train station?’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

•

It’s been a while since Aeris has gone out with Zack and his friends. She tells Elmyra, then goes to her room and opens the section of her cupboard that contains most of her Bee clothes, sliding her hands through the sequin dresses and long, fluttery shawls. She hasn’t touched any of these in the last two weeks. Or even a single stick of make-up. She sits in front of her dresser, sifting through her powders and creams, feeling like she hasn’t worn her real face in ages.

She tries to tone down the Bee look a little, settling for a gold dress that flutters around her knees in asymmetrical panels. When she goes downstairs Elmyra comments on how nice it is to see her looking more alive with blush on her cheeks and a nice dress and her hair down.  Then Aeris grabs the same unflattering coat she always hides in and Elmyra groans again and kisses her goodbye.

Zack is waiting for her by the flickering lamppost at the train station. As soon as she sees his spiky head of hair she breaks into a run. She leaps at him and he catches her, laughing and spinning her around. She lets her legs dangle like a ragdoll, breathing in his familiar musky scent, the breadth of his shoulders making her feel irrationally safe.

He sits next to her while the train rattles to life, describing the network of launch pad bases for her. Apparently there have been beginnings of guerilla warfare all over the region, ports and coastlines clamping down on surveillance to prevent Wutain rebels from crossing over. The countermeasures taken to punish the Wutains for striking at the launch pad have had the predictable effect of rallying the Wutains together, and the situation has escalated into a vicious cycle of justice-seeking rather than negotiating for terms. And Zack hasn’t had anything but Rocket Town moonshine in ages, which is unacceptable.

Aeris looks at him as he talks; he seems tired, far more tired than she’d expected. She asks him if he’s been getting enough sleep, and he launches into a rant about Genesis’s way of running his outposts.

‘… when we’re not out on missions, the idiot always insists on keeping us awake all night to man the radio stations and make sure our people are all accounted for,’ he moans. ‘His men are apparently used to it, but I have no idea how they don’t end up hating him. When you start associating his _face_ with the nausea of sleep deprivation, it’s difficult to be all friendly, you know?’

‘Is this your first time working with him?’

‘Without Angeal, yeah,’ Zack says, and rubs his eye distractedly. ‘The others all say that he captains a pretty tight ship, which is why they all put up with him. They know how efficient his methods usually are, and none of them tolerate any disrespect towards him even with all the gossip going around. I still agree his slow response time should’ve cost him his rank, if I’m honest.’ He yawns. ‘I just don’t want to see his face until I’m shipped back out there, you know? I need to stop wanting to punch him.’

Aeris smiles. _You and me both_ , she thinks to herself, and takes Zack’s hands in hers.

‘I missed you,’ she says, and Zack jolts out of rant-mode to smile at her. Then he gives her one of his big bear hugs again.

‘Missed you more.’

 •

The bar crawl is already in full swing when Aeris and Zack reach the others. They’re all moderately boozed up, so instead of giving Aeris the usual formal nods, they tug her into their midst like she’s one of them. She clings to Zack in the beginning and then allows herself to branch out, weirdly exhilarated by the freedoms she’s allowing herself. She feels safer than she has in weeks, and connecting with other people suddenly seems so easy.

She’s a bit tipsy when they get to the bar at the end of the street – it’s called ‘World’s End’ because the street closes off just after it, the road reaching into the darkness and hanging precariously over a massive hole in the plate that’s been ‘Under Reconstruction’ for years. The bar itself is cosy enough, and there’s already a group of people there when they get to it. There’s an _eyyyy_ as two groups of friends collide. Zack disappears as he goes to greet someone, and Aeris’s fingers turn to ice when she spots a familiar face in the crowd.

Genesis is standing there with a champagne flute in his hand, smiling and nodding at someone who’s talking to him. His white shirt sleeves are rolled up, baring bruised forearms, and his unkempt hair is falling across his cheekbones. Aeris stares at him, trying to imagine just how much he’s been through while she was adrift in the slums, going over her relatively small personal tragedy. With the perspective of the war, she feels like she’s made far too big of a deal of something that probably happens all the damn time over on the Western continent. She goes to the bar, thinking hard on what to say to him if he notices her. If he asks her if she’s made progress with Sephiroth… she’ll have to come clean. She’ll have to tell him. He’s spent a lot of money on her for the sake of his friend, so if anything he should at least know that the whole thing is really, _really_ dead.

She’s standing outside with the smokers, an umpteenth bottle of peach cider in her hands when she hears his voice behind her. She turns to see him stepping out of the bar with a Second Class. Their eyes cross, and he nods his head at her as if to say _we need to talk._ Then he touches the Second Class’s elbow and says a few words, clearly excusing himself.

Aeris fiddles with her cider bottle. She wasn’t really engaging with her own group very much – she was too preoccupied by how to phrase what happened with Sephiroth. Genesis comes towards her, wiping his free hand on his trousers like he’s nervous, and she finds herself giving him an equally nervous smile. Gaia, she’s too drunk for this.

‘Hi,’ she says.

He steps closer and says, ‘You want to…? Go somewhere a little more private?’

 ‘I don’t think I want to go anywhere with you,’ Aeris huffs.

‘No, I meant – ’ He sighs, like he’s trying to find his footing. ‘I just meant if we could go over there or something. So we can talk properly.’

He nods behind her, so she looks at the traffic cones that close off the road. Beyond, the streetlights run out and the buildings fall away so that there’s literally just a slab of tarmac extending over bare plate gridding like a long crackled tongue.

Aeris hums in agreement, and then falls into step beside him as he leads them away from the bar.

‘I’ve been meaning to call,’ he says after a few awkward seconds. She looks at his elegant profile, the way he’s resolutely looking at the floor rather than at her as they walk. She’s never seen him this awkward in front of her. Then again, he’s also swaying a little from side to side – he’s probably had a few drinks, too.

‘If you wanted to book me for your friend again, it’s not going to happen,’ Aeris says.

That’s enough to make him look down at her. ‘Yes, I… heard something happened.’

‘Oh?’ For a bewildering moment she imagines Sephiroth talking about her like she’s overheard clients talking about girls they’ve booked. _A bit on the skinny side, maybe. But she’s got a nice arse, yeah, and she gives it her all. Top quality shag, that one._

‘Hegemony might’ve mentioned something,’ Genesis elaborates, and Aeris shakes away the thoughts. ‘I wanted to hear your side of the story though, because I had trouble believing what she was implying. Was it really that… bad?’

Aeris just laughs. They reach the traffic cones, and Aeris looks ahead into the darkness, some reckless part of her wanting to run down there and lose herself.

‘Do you want me to paint you a picture?’ she says to Genesis. ‘So you can judge for yourself?’

‘That’s not what I – that’s not necessary.’

The way he’s treading on eggshells is making her want to push him, trip him so that he falls face first into the shards.

‘He had me dragged to his flat,’ Aeris starts, her pulse pounding hard as she brings up the memories. ‘He was angry about how I’m not actually a blow-up doll, and he thought that he’d better put me back in my place.’

Genesis winces. She ploughs on – there’s something exhilarating about saying it, detailing it, and the more uncomfortable he seems the better it feels; ‘He gave me a black eye, put a belt around my throat and then told me _I_ was what’s wrong with society – but, you know. He still paid me. So I suppose I should take it as a booking rather than an attack.’

‘Aeris.’

Her hands are shaking on her cider bottle – he places his fingers over hers briefly, an implicit request to stop talking. She slides out of his grip and takes a swig of her cider, realising just how fast her pulse is pounding. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go into it again.

‘I’m sorry,’ Genesis says firmly. ‘It was never my intention for you to get hurt.’

The memory is so vivid in her mind now, she can almost see Sephiroth standing there in the shadowy debris ahead, wrapped in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

‘I thought he was going to kill me,’ she says.

‘It would never have come to that,’ Genesis counters immediately. ‘Granted, he’s an asshole – but he wouldn’t just murder a civilian in his own city.’

‘How can you know that for sure?’

‘Trust me,’ Genesis says. ‘I’ve been around him for a long time. I’ve seen him at his darkest. That kind of chaotic behaviour – we learned just how devastating it could be in the early years of the war. He knows just as well as I do how important it is for Soldiers to stay in control.’

A chill runs through her as he reminds her of just how deadly they’re capable of being. Since he’s being so honest for once instead of jerking her around, Aeris turns to face him and says, ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you something.’

He nods at her. ‘Please do.’

‘Why me? Why did you pick me and not any of the other girls?’

His lips curl into a vague smile. ‘The answer is obvious, isn’t it?’

‘But why pick the girl you can manipulate, the girl who can’t refuse? It’s Sephiroth. No girl would’ve refused that kind of booking. Even I would’ve accepted to approach him without being threatened.’

Genesis looks at her for a moment. ‘I needed a girl I could trust,’ he says. ‘Someone who wouldn’t flake on me at the first opportunity.’

Aeris can feel dread creeping up her throat. ‘Someone you could bully into continuing the relationship even if he turned violent?’

‘No,’ Genesis sighs, then rakes his hair back distractedly. ‘No. Of course not. To be frank I didn’t think he’d go anywhere with you, let alone anywhere violent.’

He’s shuffling forwards, wandering through the traffic cones, so Aeris follows him. She’s waiting for him to gather his thoughts and give her a real answer. He takes a few seconds before elaborating;

‘I’m aware that this is going to sound like an excuse. Only – when you’re in my position, when you’re public figures like Sephiroth and I, constantly surrounded by sensitive information and second-guessing those who count themselves as your friends and allies – it becomes automatic to factor in some form of leverage that guarantees a person’s trustworthiness.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Aeris huffs. ‘It was meant to be just sex, wasn’t it? It’s not like I would’ve posed any kind of threat to anyone. You just like to have control over other people, admit it.’

Genesis gives her a wry smile. ‘You underestimate the power of your position,’ he says. ‘Or at least, the potential of it. Becoming intimate with a man of high social standing is _never_ just sex.’

For a moment Aeris looks at the pure mischief in those glowing eyes, and her imagination runs away with her. ‘Was there something you wanted me to do to him?’ she murmurs.

‘Perhaps.’

His gaze is intense. He leans closer to her, and Aeris’s blood is singing in her veins. She doesn’t know whether she’s exhilarated at the prospect of some kind of revenge – or if she’s terrified.

Then Genesis bursts out laughing, making her jump. He shakes his head, laughter echoing in the scaffolding ahead. Aeris goes beet red.

‘ _What?_ ’ she fumes.

‘You’re just so enthusiastic,’ he says. ‘I mention the idea of intrigue and you pounce on it like you’ve been fantasizing about it – ’

‘That’s – look, that’s what you seemed to be implying,’ Aeris babbles, feeling her cheeks burning up. ‘I never said I would do that kind of thing.’

 ‘I know, I know. And in your defense it _has_ happened before, girls being given lethal contracts. But I was joking. That’s not what I wanted from you at all. I do appreciate the enthusiasm but – Goddess, no.’

 ‘Well, what did you want then?’

The tarmac crumbles away on either side of the road to reveal what looks like slabs of concrete. There are metal sheets thrown about for the workers’ benefit, and Aeris’s heels resound in the darkness as they wind their way through the works. At one point Genesis reaches out a hand.

‘You want to see something?’ he asks. ‘I’ve got you, don’t worry. Over here.’

He leads her over to one side of the road where a hole gapes. The tarmac and concrete give way to a huge, rusty steel grid, lined with pipes that twist and turn. They’re looking at the bowels of the plate itself. There’s fluorescent tape everywhere to warn people off, but to her surprise Genesis just sits down on the concrete and lets his legs dangle in the emptiness. She stands behind him, looking between the gridding and glimpsing light way down below.

It’s the slums. They can see the slums. She sits next to him, holding onto his arm as she lets one leg dangle. He smiles at her, and she’s grinning with the adrenaline of being so high up.

‘Shouldn’t there be more signs to warn people away?’ she asks.

‘It’s Midgar,’ he says with a shrug. ‘There used to be massive fences and signs all over the place, but people keep tearing them down. Why, are you scared?’

‘Maybe a little,’ Aeris says. ‘But it looks so lovely from up here.’

They sit for a moment on the edge of the world, sipping from their drinks. Genesis seems to be gathering his thoughts again. She’s beginning to anticipate the rhythm of the conversation, the way he always allows for small silences so that he can formulate his point properly. Maybe he just needs extra time because he’s drunk. But there’s still elegance in such a conscientious mode of speech, and Aeris can’t help but respect him for it – especially as someone whose mouth tends to run away with her.

‘You’ve probably heard it all before, but it still sounds stupid now that I put it into words,’ he says.

‘No, go on, I want to hear it.’

‘I…’ He sighs. ‘Sephiroth’s just got a lot of unresolved issues, and I suppose I had some naïve conviction that bringing women into his life would help to make him more human. Perhaps. There you go.’

Aeris raises her eyebrows. For a moment she doesn’t even know what to say.

‘You know, that’s not what we do,’ she tells him. ‘We aren’t here to teach men to be more human.’

‘I know – but they still pick it up along the way, don’t they?’ he says. ‘There’s just something to be said for physical intimacy, the release of it, the self-exploration. Call it what you want – it has a definite, quantifiable effect.’

‘Maybe that’s why I’m so tired all the time,’ Aeris says with a smile. ‘Giving men their humanity is hardly worth eighty Gil an hour.’

Genesis laughs. ‘I certainly try to include the concept in my price range.’

‘Talk about putting a price on the human soul.’

‘Speaking of prices.’ Genesis lifts his champagne flute at her. ‘What do I owe you?’

Aeris frowns. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’

‘Come on. I’m the one who fucked up, here. You should get something out of it at least.’

‘Oh, I got money out of it,’ Aeris says. ‘A lot of money, actually. So there’s that.’

‘You deserve more than just money.’

‘Well, I don’t really get much else out of this job, so...’

Genesis tilts his head. ‘What do you mean, you don’t get much else out of it?’

Aeris tries not to smirk as she understands the real question. ‘You’d think that being in the business of pleasure means pleasure all around, but nah. Not for me.’

‘What?’ Genesis sounds indignant. ‘You don’t get anything out of it? Ever?’

‘I mean, it’s nice sometimes. But as for the big – _thing_ that all the girls are on about, the so-called bonus, nope. It’s never happened to me.’

‘Aeris,’ Genesis says in a very serious tone, ‘are you telling me that I gave this terrible assignment to a girl who’s never – ?’ He opens his hand as if to mime the supposed explosion of pleasure that an orgasm is meant to give. ‘Even with Zack?’

Aeris lifts her eyebrows again as confirmation. Then she starts giggling, looking down at her empty cider bottle. ‘Gaia, why am I telling you this – ’

‘No, I’m glad you did. Because it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,’ he says, and she just giggles harder. ‘No but seriously. I’m sure the other girls could tell you how – ’

‘Oh, I’m not telling them,’ Aeris says. ‘They all think I’m so accomplished. It would be humiliating. The sex professional who doesn’t even know what good sex is.’

Genesis shakes his head and laughs.

‘Hey, simulating is much harder work than you’d think. It’s probably harder than the real thing,’ Aeris says.  

‘Now you’ve got _me_ wondering if that’s all I ever manage to achieve.’

‘Oh, I think you’re fine,’ Aeris assures him. ‘Gem always seems very satisfied when she comes back from a booking with you.’

‘Mmm.’ His eyes glaze over for a moment as he stares down at the lights far below them. ‘I suppose there’s also the question of whether you want to experience something like that with a stranger.’

‘Yeah,’ Aeris agrees vaguely. ‘It sounds like such an unnecessary hassle.’

He turns to look at her with those hooded, glowing eyes.

‘Perhaps wanting it is all it takes,’ he says.

She considers him for a moment. When she brushes a stray hair away from her lips, his eyes drift down to her mouth and she’s reminded of just how sly he’s capable of being. It must be the drunkenness, because at that very moment she isn’t particularly bothered by it. On the contrary. He’s handsome in the same way that starving artists are, feral and hungry and reckless with sleep deprivation and she finds herself imagining what he looks like when he’s kneeling at Hegemony’s feet.

 ‘Aeris!’

They turn around – Aeris sees Zack in the streetlights way behind them, clearly straining to see where she went.

‘I’m over here!’ she shouts back at him, and waves. ‘It’s OK!’

He continues looking left and right, and then waves as if to try and catch the attention of someone he can’t see. Aeris turns back to Genesis.

‘I think we should get going,’ she says, and he downs the remainder of his champagne with a hum of agreement.

‘Listen, if Sephiroth approaches you again, if you’re ever in trouble,’ Genesis says, reaching into his trouser pocket and taking out a pen. ‘I want you to give me a call. OK?’

Aeris frowns at him. ‘You think he’s still interested?’

Genesis is holding out a hand expectantly, so she gives him her hand and he starts writing his number on the back. ‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘It’s very difficult to predict his actions. I’ll try to talk to him to see where he stands, but in the meantime...’

His fingers are warm against hers as he holds her hand in place, digging the pen nib against her skin. It’s an oddly childish thing to do – Aeris would’ve thought he’d have a business card or something. She watches him trace the last number a few more times, then he puts his pen away and observes his work.

‘There. Not too illegible.’

He gets up first, and then extends a hand to her. She takes his forearm, and he heaves her up to her feet.

‘I live in the same building as him,’ he explains. ‘And I have access to his flat. As much as I might want it to work between the both of you, I won’t allow him to antagonize you.’

‘I guess it’ll have to be a question of both of you being in the city at the same time,’ Aeris says wryly.

‘I’m aware it isn’t the best consolation, but…’

‘No, I appreciate it.’ She manages a small smile. ‘Thank you for apologizing.’

He waves at the air. ‘Please. It was the least I could do.’

‘You do know that I’d prefer not to have anything to do with him ever again, right?’

He affords her a tight-lipped smile. ‘Yes. I can imagine.’

Aeris walks ahead of Genesis, trying to remember what Hegemony said about her never having to see Sephiroth again. That it was her choice. That he couldn’t bully her into seeing him again, whatever happened. But the promises were empty and naïve, designed only to soothe her on the moment. Perhaps she’s been so scared lately because she has no way of knowing whether it’s really over.

She focuses on her footing, looking ahead at Zack’s approaching figure and trying to grapple for that sense of security she’d been so deliciously wrapped up in earlier.

 

• • •

 

Guilt isn’t something the General is used to feeling.

Sephiroth closes the door of his apartment, chucking his bag in the entrance. He doesn’t bother with the lights, preferring the blue glow of the city to rest his oversensitive eyes. He sidles around his counter, going for his liquor cabinet. One glass, a couple of ice cubes, bourbon. He downs it, pours another.

He’s sick of his own mind. Going around and around, plaguing him for two weeks running. He’s never – _thought_ about sex like this. Gone over it again and again. He’s been going to sleep with images in his mind, long pale limbs, a plump mouth open and dribbling red like a fruit he’s bitten into. He’s always known that it wasn’t socially acceptable to shout his fantasies to the world, but he always thought that he was just the same as any other man. That his fantasies weren’t particularly strange or reproachable. The women in Wutai, their hands held behind their backs, their dresses hitched up and their faces set – everyone did it back then. Nobody cared. It was a long time ago but he still brings up the images in the dead of night, hand clasped around himself, biting his lip as he takes himself over the edge. He promptly forgets about them afterwards, of course. They have always been just a means to an end. Necessary. He never thought he took any particular joy in those memories – they just seemed to come naturally when he took care of that particular part of his daily hygiene. It was never something he talked about or took pride in. It wasn’t even something he thought he’d ever act upon again.

But, Chimera. He had enjoyed it. Every single second. He can’t remember a time when sex had exhilarated him quite as much. Perhaps that’s why he’s never actively looked for a sexual partner – the idea of sex, at least the rose-tinted romantic ideal where one gets to know the other and jumps through all of these hoops to attain some polite pillow-ruffling affair, always seemed completely mundane and unnecessary to him. He’s minded his own business for a long time, thinking he doesn’t need any of it, that he’s better than romance or even his own fantasies. But… Gaia, the way she’d looked at him. Like he was some kind of monster, some subhuman _thing_.

Why does it bother him now? She’s definitely not the only woman to have looked at him like that. He downs his bourbon, pours himself another and wanders over to the glass walls to look out at the nocturnal city. She’s a prostitute. She isn’t any worthier than the Wutain women were. But perhaps… perhaps he doesn’t believe his own convictions any more. Perhaps he’s beginning to understand that none of those women were helpless, good-for-nothing victims. Perhaps he’s beginning to understand that it’s all part of the mindset that’s been drilled into him – seeing everything as usable territory, feeling that sense of ownership, of entitlement. Perhaps that’s why he never talks about them. Back during the first waves of the war, the world had never seen such human and technological power. Him and his men had been kings. He had always been taught to follow the example of his elders, and he saw them taking and taking – so he extended his own hands, and did the same thing.

It isn’t the right time to be thinking about his actions. There’s a resurgence – he’s been keeping close contact with Angeal and Genesis and he knows just how damaging it could be to start thinking compassionately about the enemy _now_. That’s not what he’s doing. No. He’s just trying to deal with… whatever the hell this is.

He looks behind him at the floor, at the space where she’d been. That girl. That completely uninteresting girl who has somehow managed to wriggle her way into his mind.

 _I understand how badly you need your little hierarchy._ He can almost hear her hissing it against his ear, feel her nails digging into his back. All he has to do is think of the look on her face and he can feel his belly clenching. He won’t allow himself to _want_ her – he won’t allow those fantasies to become reality a second time. She looked at him like he was sick, and this _guilt_ is justifying her words, making his own actions seem just as unacceptable to him as they were to her.

 … What right did she have to mess with his head?

He clenches his jaw. Takes out his mobile, looks up a number. Thinks she can just waltz into his life and make him second-guess everything. He presses call and brings it to his ear.

‘Good evening, this is the Honey Bee Inn, manager speaking. What can I do for you?’

He breathes out through his nose. He shouldn’t. He knows he’s hurt her enough already, that she’s done nothing wrong except anger him for reasons that he can’t even explain to himself. He shouldn’t, but – he can’t linger like this with this goddamned cloak of shame wrapped around his shoulders. Perhaps if he could just… see her one more time. For the sake of closure. Forgiveness. _Something_.

‘I’d like to see Chimera, please.’

‘Oh I’m sorry, she’s on a break at the moment. But if you’d like to book another girl – ’

‘No, no.’ He sighs. This was a stupid idea. ‘She still works for you, yes?’

‘Of course. If you’d like I can notify you when she’s back, mister…?’

 He wonders if she told the man about what happened. If saying his name will only bring accusations and ridicule. Then again, if he’s been blacklisted then at least he’ll know not to bother calling again.

‘Sephiroth.’

‘Oh! Oh, Sephiroth, sir! I’m very happy to hear from you, yes, really very sorry we couldn’t accommodate you this time,’ the manager exclaims. Sephiroth raises an eyebrow at his effusive manners. Why didn’t the girl tell her own boss? ‘I’ll be sure to contact Chimera and see if I can get you any dates.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I assume you’ll be wanting another outcall?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alright. Well, pleasure to speak with you again.’

‘Yes. Goodbye.’

‘Thank you _very_ much, sir. I’ll be in touch very soon.’

He grits his teeth, then hangs up. He pictures her in that flowing lilac dress, moving between crowds of men like a nymph from some lost mythology. The last of the bourbon slides down his throat, and he goes to gather his things, trying to put her out of his mind.

• • •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 'Everyone pays for sex, one way or another. The difference is that our prices are right there on the door' is a quote from Westworld, said by Maeve who is probably my favourite character in the whole show (shocking I know :'D). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Drop me a line if there's something in particular you liked!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. A weekly update schedule isn't going to work right now. :'D Life's about to get even busier for me, as I'm graduating and moving back to France for a while in July. So you should probably expect pretty sporadic updates for the summer. In the meantime, I hope you're all well and that you enjoy the chapter! <3 Thanks for reading!

• • •

‘Aeris! Package for you!’

Aeris perked up, eyes lifting from her mobile. She closed the umpteenth draft e-mail she’d been writing, hopped off the bed and headed out of her room.

With Zack gone, things had been quiet – she’d been in contact with a few Bee girls and was tiptoeing more earnestly around the idea of going back. For one, Boss had sent a few curt messages to let her know that she was missing out on a whole lot of business. And it was hard to find the words to answer him – she couldn’t help but think that it would be rude to expect a warm welcome when she’d left without explanation.

She had to admit, it had felt good not to lie to Elmyra about her evenings for a whole month. And, the idea of plunging back into hours’ worth of sex still grossed her out. She’d been thinking that if Boss really was the ‘paternal figure’ he’d suggested then perhaps he’d accept to give her only the weirdos for a bit, the ones who didn’t want sex but just paid to brush her hair or masturbate while she washed her feet and painted her toenails. She’d had clients like that in the past, and though they were hardly very common, they tended to be loyal. If she could only tell Boss that she needed to take things slow… _without_ going into what had happened with Sephiroth. It seemed like an awful lot of wishful thinking.

There was a brown package on the kitchen table. Elmyra had gone back outside to continue her morning gardening, so Aeris picked up the package and started ripping at the brown paper as she headed back up the stairs. She slowed as the paper revealed a sumptuous red box beneath. Most of the mail she got was slum folk and shop owners that she’d helped out – sometimes they’d send her brand new end-of-stock clothes, potions or perfumes. But this box was varnished, and had _golden calligraphy_ on it. Who the hell…

She closed her bedroom door, plopped down onto her bed and chucked away the remaining scraps of paper. The box sat in front of her on her fluffy duvet, heavy and important. The lid was a fancy slide-off sort that enclosed the whole thing, so Aeris slid it up and put it to the side. The smaller box it revealed was black, with silk paper hiding the contents and a square note propped on top. Aeris picked it up and read the neat black handwriting:

_Consider this the second half of my apology.  
\- G.R_

 Her heart leapt. It was Genesis. When she’d signed up at the Bee, she’d given her real address to Boss so that her Bee mail to be forwarded to her – sometimes clients liked to send her gifts, though it hadn’t happened very often. Genesis must’ve sent this to the Bee, knowing it would eventually find her. Smiling self-consciously, Aeris dug into the silk paper. Underneath was black foam padding with an oval cut into it. In the centre… was a _thing._

Aeris frowned. The corner of her mouth wiggled in and out of a smile as she tried to figure out what it was. For lack of better judgment, it looked like some kind of very expensive golden egg, with a dial in the middle that could be dragged up four settings. Was it some kind of - ? Fancy pepper spray? Kitchen timer? Decoration? She plucked it out of its foam cradle and angled it in the bright artificial daylight. Then she fiddled with the dial, and yelped as the thing came alive. She dropped it onto her duvet and it sat there buzzing angrily. She scrambled for the dial, switched it off. A vibrating egg? What on Gaia’s good earth could she possibly do with that? 

She got out her mobile, shaking her head. She took a picture of the useless thing and sent it off to Hegemony. Surely she’d had her fair share of weird gifts from Genesis – though Aeris made sure to omit who the client was, just in case it was something lewd.

It hardly took Gem more than a few seconds to reply, _darling, that’s a love egg. Have you never seen one before??_

Aeris frowned even harder. Texted back, _what’s a love egg?_

Gem just replied _lol_ and Aeris sat there glowering at her screen until Gem sent a more substantial reply:

_It’s for clitoral stimulation. You stick it in your knickers and wait for the fireworks._

 Aeris went beet red. She was suddenly very glad to not have mentioned Genesis’s name.

Gem texted _have fun!_ so Aeris angrily typed _bugger off_ and then hurriedly packed the love egg back into its box.

She went to take a shower, her mind whirring with curiosity and outrage. She’d never used any sex toys before. The only times she’d even seen them being used was back when she used to peep through Hegemony’s keyhole, so she’d always thought they were specialty items used only by the pros. Being gifted one felt almost inappropriate, like she wasn’t qualified to use it yet. It felt weird for other reasons, too. Like Genesis had stuck a hand down her knickers himself. She scrubbed herself clean and tried to think a little harder about his intentions. After all, she’d mentioned to him that she’d never… experienced any ‘fireworks’. On the one hand, it was none of his business and he’d been rude to send her something so personal. On the other… he hadn’t offered to do anything himself. Hadn’t booked her or tried to ‘fix’ her. He’d just sent her something so that she could help herself.  

By the time she’d stepped out of the shower, it wasn’t that outrageous any more. And she was still curious.

She got dressed and went back to her room. Looked at the offending box. There was silk paper spread over her duvet, she’d been in such a hurry to put the egg out of sight. She locked her bedroom door and sat on the bed, feeling her belly tightening as she contemplated what she was about to do.

Smiling nervously, Aeris reopened the box. Took out the egg. She lay back against her pillows, opened her thighs, drew her skirt up to her hips. Feeling a little silly, she trailed the cold metal egg along the inside of her thigh. Then she touched it against her plain cotton knickers, looking at the ceiling and feeling oddly like a scientist cataloguing the outcome of each contact. The egg felt cold and heavy against her, though it was comfortably round. She tried to rub it against herself, feeling even sillier. Breathing out, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine something arousing. She hadn’t been in that ‘mood’ for what felt like ages, so she had to cast around for a few minutes. That client who’d sucked on her fingers… that had been nice. What about that time Sephiroth had – Gaia no, not him – she breathed out as heat coiled in her belly. Not him. Think of something else. That man she’d seen queuing up at the baker’s the other day, with the beautiful hands. Gaia, she had such a weakness for hands. He’d squeezed different loaves of bread to test for crackly freshness and she’d stared shamelessly. Yes, that worked. Minutes later she started imagining another pair of hands. Fingers cradling a champagne flute. A smile, wolfish and sharp. She dug her head into the pillows as she let the image of Genesis fill her mind. Her belly tightened deliciously and it didn’t matter that it was him – she’d strayed into a zone where nothing mattered as long as the heat in her belly was kept kindled. She imagined his long, lithe fingers, his naked forearms. The breadth of his shoulders. His fine jawline, his lips. Her breath hitched. She imagined those sly mako eyes of his traveling over her body, and switched on the egg.

The vibrations ignited her core like flicking on a lighter. Sensation sparked through her and she tensed, hips shifting with the unfamiliar sensation. It was… good? She moved her hips again, grinding against the egg. Yeah. It was _very_ good. She hadn’t felt anything like this before – not in relentless waves like this. There was something almost _too_ good about it, like the egg was buzzing too hard, making her oversensitive. She tried to place it just above her clitoris, and the pressure became more indirect and… much better. Her mind was wandering helplessly, imagining Genesis kissing her with champagne-slick lips, his hands sliding under her clothes. Soft skin, hard muscle, red hair whispering over her skin. She imagined his mouth wandering down her chest, lips brushing over her nipples. She touched herself through her bra, gave a soft groan of frustration. She felt like she was on the edge of something, teetering, never reaching that precise angle that would allow her to tip over.   

Genesis was patient in her fantasy, patient and gentle and focused on her like none of her clients had ever been. They all wanted to feel confident in their skills, they didn’t really care if she enjoyed herself. Not really. Not like this. He was giving her all the time in the world, and he wouldn’t stop until she came. She imagined his fingers gliding over her slick entrance, easing into her and – something happened, something like falling, like – she threw her head back, opened her mouth, stopped breathing. Her entire body felt like melting glass, whipped into shape by unbearable heat. There was solidity where her muscles clenched – her abs twitched, her feet dug into the duvet. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from whining so she turned her head and bit the pillow, trying not to make too much noise.   

Once the feeling had died down, she lay there panting and staring at the ceiling for a few long minutes. Weakly, she put the egg aside and touched herself through her knickers. The cotton was wet. She could still feel herself clenching down there, so she slipped a finger inside and felt her walls contracting without her controlling them. She bit her lip, smiling stupidly. Well. This was… something.

She pulled her skirt back over her legs and put away the egg. She felt so exhausted. It was bizarre – she’d just been lying there for ten minutes. When she tried to stand up her legs trembled so hard that she couldn’t find balance. She sat back down again with a laugh.

It was the first time in ages that her body hadn’t felt completely alien. However inappropriate the gift, she’d have to thank Genesis if only for that.

 

• • •

 

The Bee rose out of the darkness, a technicolour cyberpalace standing among rundown shacks and huge grey pipelines. Aeris stood in the dirt road that led to the entrance. She looked at the lanterns dotting the path ahead, the drunks staggering around, the bouncers standing tall and monolithic at the Bee entrance. She couldn’t quite figure out how she felt yet. Her lower belly was tingling but she couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement.

She started walking again. There was new graffiti on the side of the Bee – someone had painted _SHINRA = MURDERERS_ on top of the cherry tree that had previously decorated the wall. Aeris took in the glaring blood-red letters. She’d crossed quite a few new posters on her way here, accusing ShinRa of human experimentation. Again she felt guilty for being so self-centred as soon as she realised that the city was alive with political movements and people who _acted_ on what they felt. She breathed through her nose. When she got to the bouncers they smiled at her in recognition.

‘You just here for a visit or should we be welcoming you back?’

Aeris grinned back at them. ‘Not sure yet. I guess it depends on Boss.’

‘Ooh, right. Well, good luck!’

‘Thanks.’

She parted the bead curtains, stepped inside. It was strange to be coming in here after the opening hour. The bar was teaming with people. Some of the girls actually broke away from their clients once they saw Aeris, just to come and say hello. They hugged her, welcomed her, asked how she was doing. Aeris felt so relieved at being welcomed back in the one place she could be herself. She hugged them back hard.  

When she got to the office door, her mouth had gone completely dry. She knocked. Waited. Then the door swung open and Boss stood there, towering over her with his moustache quirking irritably. She looked into his beady eyes and made a conscious effort to stand her ground. He contemplated her for a few long seconds before stepping aside so she could come in.

She sat at his desk while he closed the door. She burrowed her hands into her lap, feeling as vulnerable as she had on her very first night. There was no Zack to help her with the sweet talking this time.

‘Ah, Chimera,’ Boss said on a sigh. ‘What am I going to do with you.’

Aeris watched as he walked around the desk and fell back into the swamp of sweaty leather that was his chair.

‘So.’ Boss held up a hand, started to count his fingers; ‘You make the biggest catch in all of Midgar. Then you take a break, _without_ even telling me to my face. You get Gem to give me my cut of the booking fee while you put on your little vanishing act. I’ve got no idea how you are, and then there’s your client calling me, asking where the hell you went – ’

Aeris’s nails dug into her lap.

‘He called you?’

Boss looked thoroughly unimpressed. ‘Of course he did. Surely you’ve been in this industry long enough to realise that your clients aren’t cash cows. They have feelings. They miss you when you’re gone – ’

‘Gaia, don’t give me that speech,’ Aeris interrupted, looking away with a scowl. ‘I know all that.’

‘Do you, Chimera? Because I’m not sure you realise just how harmful your actions have been,’ Boss said. He took his mobile out of his pocket, brandished it in the air. ‘I left you Gaia knows how many messages. I promised to call him as soon as I knew when you were back. Do you have any idea how it makes this business look when I can’t even track down one of my own workers? Do you have _any_ idea just how disrespectful and _downright idiotic_ it is, to brush off someone of his calibre?’

The impulse to bite her nails was making her hands tremble. Aeris kept them in her lap, looking resolutely at the desk in front of her.

‘The thing is, Chimera, I know you’re not an idiot,’ Boss said. ‘So if you want me to give you back your room, you’re going to have to tell me the truth. Starting with why you went on a break.’

‘He – ’ Aeris started, but the words stayed stuck in her throat.

Boss sat there, leaning on his elbows and staring at her steadily.

‘What did he want? When he called?’ she asked.

‘He didn’t specify. I’m assuming he just wanted a regular outcall, one hour, no extras.’

Aeris let out a scoff. Boss tilted his head.

‘Did I say something funny?’

‘You don’t know him,’ she said.

‘Well, it would certainly help if you said _something_ about the damned booking. Then maybe I could have a better grip on this whole situation.’

‘He’s not right in the head,’ she managed.

Boss laughed.

‘Of course he’s not right in the head. He’s a First Class Soldier.’

‘No,’ Aeris said. ‘You don’t get it.’

Boss gave another sigh.

‘Look, I know the man has a reputation for being rather peculiar – ’

‘He has rape fantasies,’ Aeris finally blurted.

Boss just raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You know that sort of thing can be catered to. Safely and consensually.’

‘Boss, for Gaia’s sake – he’s not interested in consent. Alright?’

Boss just looked at her, his thick eyebrows hanging over his eyes like bushy ledges. Then the penny finally seemed to drop.

‘Ah.’

Silence. Boss took a pen from his pen pot and twiddled it between his fingers as he thought of an appropriate answer. Then he said in a thin, uncertain voice;

‘Are you sure he isn’t interested in – ?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care,’ Aeris said. ‘I don’t want to see him again. So you can just call him back and tell him there won’t be a second booking.’

Boss looked intently at his pen. ‘See, in this type of situation I would normally call the client and recommend a girl who would fit his requirements. But in this case – he’s not interested in anyone else. He just wants you.’

It was a strange feeling, to have somehow earned the interest of someone that high up. Aeris was certain that it would’ve felt intoxicating in different circumstances. Right now she was too busy trying to quell her fear to find it particularly flattering.

‘Are you making this a condition?’ she asked. ‘I can’t work here unless I take another booking with the most dangerous man in Midgar?’ Boss opened his mouth as though to interrupt her, so she ploughed on; ‘I’d wager that says a whole lot more about you and your _business_ than anything I might’ve done to keep myself safe.’

Boss stared at her, his expression carefully drawn.

‘I never meant to imply that,’ he said slowly. ‘I privilege your safety above all else. You know that.’

‘I’m not sure I do, Boss.’

The man quirked his moustache. ‘You don’t have to see him again if you feel threatened by him,’ he said. ‘The only _condition_ I’d place on you working here would be for you to tell me the truth next time. I can help you, Chimera. I need you to understand that.’

The words had no effect. Something had been broken that day in Sephiroth’s apartment, something that neither of them could possibly hope to fix with a few words and a handshake. Still, Aeris was grateful that Boss wasn’t going to force her hand, which made her realise just how low he had fallen in her esteem.

‘I just want everything to go back to normal,’ she said quietly.

‘That’s perfectly understandable,’ Boss told her with a strained smile. ‘You can resume work. I’ll spare you the fee that girls usually pay when taking unannounced breaks.’

‘Thank you,’ Aeris forced out. Then her gaze homed in on Boss’s phone, imagining it ringing with that… man on the other end. ‘Are you going to… ?’

‘Call him back?’ Boss raised his eyebrows at her, his forehead wrinkling into four thick lines. ‘Well, I’m going to have to, aren’t I?’

Aeris stood up, still shaking from the confrontation and how earnest she’d allowed herself to be. She nodded.

‘Thanks, Boss.’

He tutted under his breath as he started dialing a number.

‘Next time you have doubts regarding how much I care about you girls, remember this moment, would you?’ he said. ‘I’m literally about to tell the most important guy in this city to go polish his knob in some other dingy alleyway.’

This time Aeris’s smile was genuine.

‘I’ll go get my room ready,’ she said as she opened the door.

Boss waved her out of the room, and she finally felt sparks of excitement lighting her steps as she made her way towards the stairs.

 

• • •

 

They’re dancing on the fiery-red cliff tops of the Cosmo Canyon, landscape disintegrating into virtual hexagons where the land is unmapped. Like two wraiths spinning around one another, they leap from ledge to ledge, sending white-hot bolts of magic at one another when too much distance separates them.

Genesis has never been in better shape – his style still has a passionate messiness about it, but his combat partner can see that he’s trying to incorporate strategy rather than blind offence. The fictive sunset throws dancing lights in his hair and on his leathers, so that he seems like an entity of fire as he advances on his adversary. Sephiroth isn’t very comfortable with the heat of the place, but it had been Genesis’s turn to choose – they haven’t spent time together in Midgar for weeks, so he doesn’t mind. If anything their weapon testing assignments are a welcome reprieve from the war.

The General sweeps away a bolt of electricity with a ringing swipe of his Masamune, before propelling himself into the air in one leap. He turns on himself, throwing out his arms and lifting his chin as he triggers the latest Summon materia they’d asked him to test.

‘You cheating scum!’ Genesis shouts up at his friend, his face glowing with the excitement of battle. ‘Which is it?’

 _‘Bahamut!’_ Sephiroth shouts back as the sky begins to darken; the air carries a low thrum, and a tremor starts to grow under Genesis’ feet.

‘Oh, of course! Let me just get my fucking Chocomog ready,’ the redhead yells, feeling the favouritism like a stab in the chest. He’d thought Scarlet loved him more – but Hojo was probably the one to assign the materia tests this time.

There’s a distant screech, and the clouds strain as the atmospheric upheaval pulls them into a shredded swirl. Genesis watches the darkness gather behind Sephiroth’s cruciform figure far above the landscape, his breath stolen away by awe. It’s in moments like these that he remembers why he fights so hard day after day to keep his status, reverting to his teenage self and allowing himself to feel the old idolatry pulsing in his chest.

A scaly black head pierces the cloudy rosette directly behind the General. The head is so huge that Genesis almost yells at his friend to get out of the way, before remembering that _he_ ’s the intended target. Laughing as the adrenaline pumps through his veins, the redhead sheaths the heavy blade he’s testing and proceeds to run for his life. The cliff edge is coming into view – there’s a rush of hot air as gargantuan wings displace the normal currents. A savage chimeric scream fills the air, making Genesis’s eardrums flap.

His feet are at the edge of the cliff. The boy in him makes him yell with apprehension as he breaks through the urge to stop. And he leaps.

Hot air rushes past his limbs as he rises up, arms and legs wheeling. At the same moment there’s a sickening distortion of cyber-reality as the shafts of sunlight bend and refract, gathering into the Bahamut’s jaws.

Genesis falls.   


Sephiroth lands on the cliff top, bending over on one knee, watching as his friend’s coat flies up around him. He’s miniscule compared to the creature piercing the sky. The General is breathless with anticipation, caught up in the battle and only slightly worried. He trusts his fellow First Class not to do anything stupid.

Genesis catches himself on an arch, collapsing into a roll so that his legs won’t break – only the arch isn’t very wide, so he finds himself calculatedly falling from surface to surface like a cat jumping from rooftop to rooftop. The Bahamut is advancing through the sky, following him, the ball of energy it’s brewing almost large enough to break its jaws. It has to discharge any time now to preserve its own health.

‘ _Genesis!_ ’ Sephiroth yells as the Bahamut squints and arches its great spine in preparation. Genesis looks up, kneeling on a ledge. He doesn’t even have time to grin as he sees what’s coming. The very air seems to warp and shiver as the blast erupts from the Bahamut’s mouth. The laser shoots toward the cliff, straight at the tiny human who doesn’t seem inclined to move out of the way.

Just as Sephiroth was really starting to worry, the redhead dives straight off the cliff face, evading the laser by a hair’s breadth. Said cliff face shatters and explodes upon impact. Sephiroth’s mouth parts as he watches his friend freefalling through the crimson shower of rocks and boulders. 

He makes his way down to ground level as the Bahamut retreats into the sky, sheathing his Masamune across his back as he goes. The sound of cascading rock and age-old formations dislocating fills his ears as he makes his way down fragile arches and spiny passageways. More than once he slips and catches himself in improvised acrobatics as the ground shudders under the impact of the avalanche. Once his boots hit solid ground, he has to squint as he looks around himself, the rocks having lifted a veil of sand in the air. It’s only when every rock has wedged itself between its neighbours and silence has somewhat fallen that he finds Genesis casually perched on a boulder, dusting his leathers and recovering his breath.

‘I think we’ve smashed the simulation room again,’ Genesis calls down, and Sephiroth laughs.

‘You idiot,’ he shouts. ‘I was getting some Phoenix Down ready.’

‘Fuck off! I was totally in control of the situation.’ Genesis steps back, before running up and performing a graceful forward flip, touching the ground at Sephiroth’s side.

‘Of course you were. Especially when the _cliff_ exploded, with you on it.’ The silver-haired man is making a point not to look impressed, taking out his phone in order to end the simulation and see what state they’ve put the training room in – but then a shoulder drives against his stomach, wrenching the air from his lungs. In the next second he’s sandwiched between the floor and a raging red-clad wraith.

‘ _You think we’re finished here?’_

•

About an hour later the two men have signaled the state of shameful disrepair of the simulation room on the appropriate ShinRa terminal, and are undressing in the communal showers. Due to Genesis’s time spent at the Launch Pad, and Sephiroth’s own commitments to ShinRa’s international expansion, they’re both completely late when it comes to weapon testing. There is a whole range of weapons designed specifically for the capacities of the First Class, so they can’t delegate it to anyone else. Their celebration at finally being in Midgar at the same time was met by harsh reminders about the piles of Weapon Department-stamped crates waiting for them in their offices. So instead of spending the weekend cooling off and getting that spa treatment that Genesis keeps obnoxiously mentioning, they’ve been testing the crème de la crème of Weapons Department designs against each other. Sometimes Genesis suspects that Sephiroth is far happier to bond over the sparks of clashing swords than anything else. Not that he’s complaining.

They rush through the gear, sparring far into Friday night until the HQ is practically empty. Naturally, Genesis acts like a perfect derelict teenager, taking advantage of the deserted corridors to strip down and smoke spliffs while Sephiroth chooses their next equipment to test. Once they’ve reached 4am, Sephiroth takes over one of the empty bars, putting on his usual choice of classical music and raiding the wine cellar so that they can sit down and write out their performance reports. When the wine starts to make their concentration slip they decide to shower.

There’s a sweet-smelling fog in the air as they shed their leathers in the cloakroom; one or two Second Class men nod rather eagerly at the two elites as they exit the showers and walk in with towels around their waists. The most rigorous of ShinRa’s high-ranking Soldiers know that night time is best for unobstructed training, so it’s no surprise to have company at this hour. Genesis nods back at them, calling them by name when he knows them. Sephiroth is too busy unstrapping his pauldrons, or perhaps he just didn’t care for human interaction come a certain hour.

‘Ahh.’ Genesis groans with delight as he undoes the complex system of straps and buckles that holds his leather armour together. Once it’s all dumped in a pile on the bench, he stretches down and touches the ground to relieve his back and shoulders. The General notices several bruises blooming over the man’s shoulder blades and impressively sculpted serratus muscles, becoming apparent over his ribs as he bends over.   

‘You’ve been working,’ Sephiroth states, setting his pauldrons on the bench with a metallic _clank._

‘I’ve been taking a beating, you mean,’ Genesis grins as he straightens up.

‘Stop underestimating yourself,’ Sephiroth counters. ‘Your assignment at the border is paying off, however much you may hate it.’

‘It’s because Angeal isn’t there to tug on my leash,’ Genesis says, yanking the Soldier-stamped belt from his waist rather nonchalantly, though he inwardly glows at the compliment.  

‘I noticed. Perhaps he should stay in Wutai a little longer,’ Sephiroth says with a rare grin. Genesis looks over at him incredulously.

‘D’you think I’m stupid?’ he says. ‘I’m starting to think you enjoy beating me to a pulp far more than what’s acceptable. The sooner Angeal comes home, the better. It’s different without him.’

‘It is different, yes. You have neither shield nor voice of reason to hide behind.’

‘That’s not necessarily a _good thing_ , Sephiroth,’ the redhead laughs. ‘And stop acting like I’m the only one who needs a voice of reason.’

‘Mm.’ Black leather whispers along Sephiroth’s skin as he sheds his trench coat and hooks it up. Genesis watches casually. He never knows when to allow for pauses or when to deepen the discussion with Sephiroth – but right at that moment, the man seems genuinely lost in thought. He keeps watching as Sephiroth places a foot up on the bench, working at the laces of his boots in rapid swipes. The slap of hemp against leather resounds in the silence. He’s… frowning.

‘Sephiroth?’ Genesis says. ‘You mind telling me where you’ve gone?’

One hand squeezes the boot above its heel to stow it away, and Sephiroth sighs as he stamps his other boot on the bench, leaning over his thigh to work at the laces.

‘A man can’t even breathe without you getting all involved,’ he says.

‘Come on. Everyone gets paranoid when the Demon of Wutai pauses to think.’

Sephiroth glances at his friend through his long fall of white hair. ‘I didn’t know you still thought of me in those terms.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Genesis sniffs. ‘I was making a general statement. And besides, that’s the reason why they aren’t letting you come with me to the border, right? Your reputation just won’t die.’

Sephiroth arches an eyebrow. ‘I think it’s because Shinra’s in denial about the whole affair. If he doesn’t send in his greatest weapons then the war hasn’t really started again.’

‘Which is frankly idiotic,’ Genesis says. ‘Back in the glory days, the three of us would wipe this kind of situation up in a matter of days. All this pandering about form and respectability and not wanting to alarm the masses is doing more harm than good. At this rate we’ll never be done with the war.’

‘The glory days…’ Sephiroth echoes. He tugs his boot off, stows it away under the bench next to the other one. Then he sits down. He stares at the doorway to the showers, eyes narrowing like he’s gathering his thoughts.

‘Is that really what you would call the early years of the war?’ Sephiroth asks.

Genesis smirks as he kicks his own boots off. ‘You mean the days where we could fight for seventy-two hours without food or drink? Nowadays I can’t even function without a gallon of coffee in my system, so yeah. I’d say those days were pretty glorious.’

‘We were burning through so much Mako,’ Sephiroth says, shaking his head. Genesis snorts.

‘How long did your withdrawal last after they changed the initial dosage?’

‘About six months,’ Sephiroth tells him. ‘I almost went blind.’

Genesis laughs. ‘Yeah, same for me. I’m still not convinced my eyes work properly.’

‘Genesis,’ Sephiroth starts. Then he stops. His eyebrows are doing that weird, uncharacteristic thing again. Like he’s confused or even upset. Genesis can’t help thinking of Aeris and her peach cider, swinging her legs in the void, looking down at the lights with the same lines etched in her brow.

Sephiroth opens his mouth again; ‘Did you ever do anything you regret? Back then?’

The intimacy of the question catches Genesis off guard. He isn’t sure whether Sephiroth wants a genuine answer or a more generic one. He dithers, then goes for a safe option;

‘I regret not asking more questions. Getting thrown out there without even studying my enemy any further than their battle techniques.’

Sephiroth has seen the Wutain literature in Genesis’s flat. He doesn’t need to be told this. He waves a hand in the air as though to dismiss the cultural argument.

‘I’m talking about worse things than having the wrong history books,’ Sephiroth says.

Genesis’s curiosity is set aflame. It seems immediately obvious that Sephiroth is talking about his own less-than-shiny behaviour back in the day – but he’s never opened the subject up for discussion before.

The redhead treads carefully. ‘You know I never joined in with what the boys did once we gained new territory.’

‘Why not?’ Sephiroth asks. His voice is low, his eyes still on the doorway as though to make sure nobody’s coming.

Genesis sighs. ‘Well, I was always with Angeal, remember – there was no stepping out of line with him. And, I don’t know. It’s just…’ He’s struggling to find the words. It’s been years and yet it still feels so taboo to even bring this kind of subject up, however subtly. Soldiers absolutely never talked about what they did to alleviate tension back then. Genesis remembers understanding that it was some visceral sort of claim, a ritual of sex and violence. Like some kind of celebration of virility, perhaps. He remembers trying to talk about it with Angeal, to see if they could stop their own men from behaving that way – but Angeal had been powerless to enforce any kind of measure that the other Second Class officers weren’t bothering about.

‘I just wouldn’t do that sort of thing to a woman, whether we’re at war or not,’ Genesis finally elaborates. ‘I guess it just feels wrong to me.’

‘Why?’

Genesis glances at his friend. ‘What do you mean, why?’

‘Why does it feel wrong?’

The redhead throws up his hands helplessly. ‘I don’t know, Sephiroth. Maybe because I never demonized the damned Chaoists like the rest of you did. Maybe because I never needed to validate myself by fucking someone who’s got no say in the matter.’

Anger flashes through Sephiroth’s eyes for a moment. And then he turns his head away, as though fighting some kind of internal battle.

Genesis is endlessly intrigued.

‘You have something you want to tell me?’ he asks.

For all response, Sephiroth pushes himself off the bench and starts unbuckling his trousers.

‘Forget it,’ he says.

‘You know you can talk to me,’ Genesis insists. ‘Whatever it is that’s troubling you. I won’t judge you.’

Sephiroth glances at him with a cocked eyebrow. Genesis smirks.

‘Alright, maybe just a little bit.’

‘I’m not sure you would understand,’ Sephiroth says.

This is exactly the kind of asinine statement that sends Genesis up the wall instead of shutting him up.

‘I understand far more than you think,’ he snaps. ‘You think you’re the only one to worry about the liberties we indulged in during the war? Some people come back traumatized. Some people hate themselves for what they’ve done.’

‘I don’t _hate myself_ ,’ Sephiroth says with a scoff.

‘Oh? Then what is it?’

They get rid of their last items of clothing while Sephiroth decides whether to answer the question.

Then he says, ‘Those memories. They’re beginning to… interfere.’

‘With what?’ Genesis can easily guess where this is going, now. ‘With your sex life?’

Sephiroth heaves an exasperated sigh. ‘I knew I would regret bringing this up with you – ’

‘Nonsense. You know this is my area of expertise.’

‘Except I never express any type of desire to be informed on the details of _your_ sex life, Gen.’

‘You know you never need to,’ Genesis grins. ‘Come on. Out with it. What happened?’

Sephiroth straightens up and towers over his friend to better impose his authority.

‘I don’t owe you anything,’ he says. ‘I won the duel.’

‘ _What!’_ Genesis sputters. ‘Don’t tell me that’s your excuse. We all know you like acting mysterious but now you’re bordering on _childish_.’

Black leather entirely shed, Sephiroth looks over the shoulder of a body that has decidedly _nothing_ childish about it before starting towards the showers.

‘Nothing you say can possibly trigger me, so stop trying so hard.’

Genesis follows his friend into the showers. They eel their way in between the Second Class, bodies enveloped in the warm, perfumed clouds of condensation. Sephiroth still seems perturbed as he curls his sopping hair into a thick rope. Genesis watches him as he scrubs at his arms, spikes of hair falling into his eyes.

‘This is about Chimera, isn’t it?’

Sephiroth doesn’t even glance up at him as he would’ve predicted. And then –

‘Yes.’

The fact that he’d let out the answer to the mystery as simply as that would’ve been disappointing, if he hadn’t said it with such a guilty intonation.

Sephiroth looks at him, white lashes weighed down by pearls of water. ‘Before you start with the questions, I’d rather not talk about it now.’

His eyes flicker to the three Second Class that they’re sharing the showers with. Genesis nods. He busies himself with raking shampoo through his hair, waiting for the others to leave. After about five minutes, one of them finally pads away. Genesis is irritated by how long the other two are taking. He manages to stay facing the wall for as long as he can. Then Sephiroth moves, and Genesis automatically glances in his direction – the General’s long, lean body glistens in the shower water, bubbly streams trickling down his legs. His head is tilted back, hands rubbing shampoo into his scalp, hair sticking to the curve of his spine. Genesis’s mouth goes dry. His imagination is painting far too vivid a picture of Aeris pinned under that body, their long hair mingling, strong hands caging bird-bone wrists –  

‘Have you spoken to her?’ Sephiroth asks.

Genesis snaps to attention. ‘What?’

‘You were the one who was in contact with her,’ Sephiroth elaborates, his eyes still closed against shampoo bubbles. ‘Have you talked to her recently?’

Genesis isn’t sure whether this is a trap. ‘I might’ve done, yes.’

Sephiroth wipes his face and looks at his friend with reddened eyes. The Second Class are still there but he can’t seem to help himself from tumbling back into the subject.

‘Did she mention anything?’

‘Why?’ Genesis says with a smirk. ‘Are you actually interested?’

‘Don’t make this difficult, Gen.’

‘Apparently you’re the one who made things difficult,’ Genesis says. ‘Not that I was too surprised.’

The two Second Class finally start edging away. Both Firsts wait until they’ve gone to the dressing room to pursue the discussion.

‘You all seem to have this pre-established idea that I’m a complete arse around women,’ Sephiroth protests once they’re alone.

‘Oh, well I wonder where _that_ might come from.’

‘You know I treat most Midgarian women like my equals.’

‘Just not hookers.’

‘Because they’re hookers.’

Genesis snorts. ‘Astounding arguments you’ve got there.’

‘ _Look_ ,’ Sephiroth sighs, but Genesis won’t have it.

‘Saying _look_ isn’t going to convince me any more than your whorephobic argumentation,’ the Soldier says. ‘Truth is, you don’t treat anybody like your equal. That’s your problem. And I think the fact that you’re linking Chimera with Wutai just goes to show that you’re beginning to understand that, yourself. There’s some kind of power trip at play that you’ve been needing to address since day one.’

Genesis is surprised by how riled up he’s getting, thinking of Aeris and how utterly powerless she must’ve been in the face of this wall of disdain and muscle. But then Sephiroth looks at him again and asks, ‘I don’t treat you like my equal?’ and he sounds so disbelieving and indignant that the anger melts away.

‘Guess I’m not just anybody,’ Genesis says with a grin.

‘That’s what I thought,’ Sephiroth baritones, before stepping out of the shower himself.

They’re alone in the dressing room, shrugging on their civilian clothes when Genesis addresses the elephant in the room.

‘Do you want to see her again? Even if your past experience is interfering?’

Sephiroth is buttoning up a shirt. He looks up, pretending to be only mildly interested.

‘I don’t think she would agree to what I have in mind,’ he says.

‘Do you care whether or not she agrees?’ Genesis asks, perhaps a little too pointedly. Sephiroth strangely doesn’t raise his hackles at the implication – on the contrary, he seems relieved that Genesis is the one to bring it up.

‘That’s precisely the issue,’ he says. ‘I seem to… prefer that she doesn’t.’

Those words in Sephiroth’s mouth have the effect of ice rushing down Genesis’s spine. He tries to stop from imagining just how well they might complement one another’s fantasies and grapples for the ‘compassionate friend’ role that he’d been filling so well.

‘I know you’d rather I didn’t go into detail about my side of things. But – there are ways to deal with violent urges.’

‘Oh?’

‘You know I pay for the Zolom to run through pre-scripted scenarios with me – ’

‘Please don’t go into that again,’ Sephiroth protests.

‘Alright, alright, I wasn’t going to. I just meant to say. There is such a thing as ‘consensual non-consent.’ You just need to find a person who offers the service. Or discuss it with Chimera.’

Sephiroth frowns at him like he’s just spat on the floor. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘It’s a real service. I promise you. You write out what you want to do. You both reach an agreement regarding what she’s prepared to do for you. Then once it’s all organised and consented to, you can pretend it’s the real thing. And voila. No more moral dilemmas.’

Sephiroth is shaking his head, his long wet strands of hair gliding back and forth.

‘It’s pretense,’ he says. ‘How can one appreciate pretense?’

‘I definitely can. And I guess you won’t know until you try it,’ Genesis concludes with a somewhat self-satisfied tilt of the head.

The General stands up, turning to shove his gear into his open bag.

‘Right. Well. I’d appreciate if you kept this to yourself,’ he says. Genesis nods, feeling a thrum of pride at being only one that Sephiroth confided to about this. There’s a prickle of frustration, too, because there’s an easier solution to all this – but he’s ignoring that as always.

‘My lips are sealed,’ he promises.

 

They head to the labs to give back the materia they’d tested.  The nocturnal lab assistants manning the desk seem to give Genesis the cold shoulder as they stir, keeping their sad little affections for his silver-haired counterpart.

‘How was the Bahamut?’

‘Functional,’ Sephiroth says in a clipped tone, having noticed the favouritism. He rolls the heavy crystalline ball across the counter and one of the assistants catches it. Genesis comes up beside his friend, not quite understanding why they’re being so unfriendly as he sets his own materia on the countertop.

‘Everything alright in the labs?’ he mutters as he takes out his stack of performance slips.

‘Oh, everything’s alright, yeah,’ the blond assistant snaps. ‘Nothing quite like mass redundancies to encourage you to do your job.’

Sephiroth glances up. ‘What?’

‘Haven’t you seen the graffiti? There are posters everywhere now, too, and pamphlets circulating.’

‘You’re not telling me they’re giving that propagandist shit any weight?’ Genesis states, feeling the familiar cold dread at the mention of AVALANCHE, which in his mind is synonymous to the political clusterfuck that he’s helped set into motion.

‘They’ve made serious accusations against Soldier,’ the blond assistant said bluntly. ‘And the blame falls on us.’

Sephiroth glances at his friend, clearly willing him to just get the slips all signed and handed in so they can get out of there – it would be the understatement of the year to say that Genesis is a little sensitive about the political situation at the moment, seeing as he still takes himself for the catalyst.

‘I’ll talk to Hojo,’ the General assures them, hoisting the strap of his leather bag higher on his shoulder. ‘Come on.’

The assistants clearly give him a look which means _A fat lot of good that’ll do us_ as they stow away the paperwork.

‘Here.’ The redheaded elite slides his papers across the countertop a little violently. ‘And tell Hojo he can stick his fucking Chocomog up his – ’

‘Genesis.’

 

• • •

 

Hegemony was absent, having been taken on some fancy cruise along the coastline between Midgar and Kalm. She still sent messages of encouragement when she learned that Aeris had come back to the Bee. But it wasn’t enough to soothe Aeris’s anxieties. Sex was… weird. Scary. The older men were okay enough with their dry, scaly skin and their gentleness, but it was the younger clients that freaked Aeris out. Sometimes she had to excuse herself and go into the bathroom to breathe in and out. Sometimes she made it through foreplay, and when penetration came up she’d zone out completely, feel nothing but nausea and a grinding of wet flesh.

She mentioned this to Harmony on her second night back, asking how on the Planet people managed to get their libido back after a bad booking. They were at the bar, waiting to order drinks for themselves and their clients, so Harmony leaned closer to her.

‘Try touching yourself beforehand,’ Harmony said. A blush stole over Aeris’s cheeks, but Harmony seemed completely composed, like they were swapping tips on how to season a particular dish. ‘Works for me. Gets your body relaxed and ready and the client thinks he’s the one who did it.’

Aeris’s face couldn’t seem to decide between frowning and smiling.

‘Um. Okay.’

The bartender handed Harmony the champagne bottle she’d ordered, so she grabbed it and poked Aeris’s arm with the cold green butt.

‘You sure you’re alright? You could always take things a bit slower. You’ve hardly taken a break since opening time.’

Aeris shook her head. ‘As soon as my clients knew I was coming back they all pounced.’

‘Boss could’ve spaced them out a bit more. At this rate you’re practically doing assembly-line work.’

Aeris snorted. ‘I’m okay, I promise. I’ll give your method a try.’

Harmony winked at her. ‘Go get ‘em.’

Aeris had brought her vibrator to her Bee room, paranoid that Elmyra might come across it. While her clients took their pre-booking shower, she would use it, close her eyes and reach for her fantasy. Even if she didn’t go the whole way, Harmony had been right – she was less tense, and it helped to tip her into the appropriate mindset. Between clients, she fixed her bedsheets and grinned to herself, wondering if Genesis had any idea that there was a ghost of him standing behind the curtains of her rickety little room.

She was halfway through her last booking when her bell started ringing. She was straddling her client on the bed, so she gave one last hip roll and stopped, raking her hair out of her face so she could discreetly check her watch. He’d booked her for an hour, and it had just gone past the forty-five minute mark. She smiled sweetly at the sexagenarian between her legs.

‘I’m sure it’s just a glitch,’ she assured him. Then she pinned his arms over his head, and he was too busy staring wide-eyed at her face and going _ohoho_ to hear the second peal.

The sound of the bell pulled at Aeris’s insides. Her accelerated pulse had nothing to do with the hip rolls she was giving her client – she could do those for hours now, she’d built up enough abs over the months. She just couldn’t help wondering. Boss had never said whether he’d gotten through to Sephiroth. What if… what if it was finally him?

The bell mercifully stayed silent for the next five minutes. She went back to watching her client’s face, matching his vocal crescendo with her own fake moans, trying to get him over the edge – and then someone banged at the door. The client stopped mid-moan, opening his eyes. Aeris gave him an apologetic smile, clambering off of him and reaching for her night gown.

‘Sorry sweetie,’ she said as she pulled the gown over her shoulders. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

‘Are you serious?’ the guy groaned, his hand already on his cock, pumping away so as not to waste the build-up. Aeris hurried to the door, opened it a fraction.

One of the girls was standing in the corridor, grimacing – they all knew just how terrible it was to be interrupted mid-booking. Aeris raised her eyebrows at her.

‘ _What?’_ she whispered.

‘Boss needs you downstairs,’ the girl said, jabbing her thumb down the corridor. ‘Phonecall. It’s urgent.’

‘But I’m – ’

‘ _Uuurgghnn_ ,’ groaned the client from behind them, apparently finishing by himself. Aeris whipped her head around. The man was panting heavily as he came into his condom, hips lifting off of the mattress. She looked back at her friend, who pretended to gag. Aeris bit her tongue to stop from laughing as the man grunted and groaned like a wounded behemoth.

‘I’ll be down in a sec,’ Aeris muttered. ‘I have literally ten minutes left here – ’

‘It’s urgent. You gotta go now.’

‘ _Urgh_. Fine.’

Summoning as much patience as she could, Aeris sweet-talked her client into taking a shower and apologized profusely for this untimely interruption. She promised he would get a discount next time. He just nodded as he lay there, so Aeris tied her night gown up properly and hurried out with her friend.

When Aeris came into the office, Boss was standing by his desk, landline in hand.

‘You couldn’t wait ten minutes?’ Aeris complained as she shut the door. ‘My client didn’t pay two hundred gil to whack himself off _–_ ’

Boss immediately swatted a hand at the air to shut her up. Aeris fell silent, eyeing the phone and the way he was covering the mouthpiece with his thumb. Dread started making her fingers tingle.

‘I finally got through to him,’ Boss informed her. ‘He… won’t seem to take no for an answer. At least, not from me.’

Aeris stared at him. The sounds of the Bee all seemed to die out at once – in their stead, a peculiar silence filled the room.

‘He’s – he’s on the line?’ she stammered.

Boss nodded. ‘He wants to talk to you.’

Her head was shaking left and right before she even willed it to.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Chimera,’ Boss said gravely.

‘No. I don’t – ’

‘Just get it out of the way. You’re safe here.’

Aeris stared at the phone like it was a rattlesnake wrapped around Boss’s fist. The way Boss was staring at her, the doorway behind her might as well have been bricked up. There was no backing out. She breathed out, brought to mind all the conversations she’d imagined, all of the shouting matches she’d fantasized about where she told Sephiroth all the things that were wrong with him. Trying to draw on that illusion of strength, Aeris stepped forwards and held out a hand. Boss looked at her with something like admiration in his face, and brought the phone to his ear just to say, ‘She’s here.’ Then he gave it to her.

She pressed the cold plastic against her ear. Forced herself not to chuck it across the room.

There was a moment of silence. Then she heard that deep voice on the other end of the line, a silky manifestation of her nightmares;

‘Chimera.’

She could feel his skin against hers, smell his musky scent and his sickening wine breath. For a moment she was paralyzed by the amount of potential insults she could fling at him.  

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said. ‘About what happened, and about what comes next.’

‘I’m done talking to you,’ Aeris bit out.

‘Listen to me. It won’t take long.’

The fact that he was still giving her orders made her want to slam the phone down.

‘What happened that day,’ he started, and then paused. ‘I understand if you would have reservations. About seeing me again.’

Aeris drew blank. She felt so light and empty, like all of her insides had been scooped out.

‘If you tell me what it is you want, I’ll make sure you are well compensated.’

‘No amount of money is worth seeing you,’ Aeris spat. Boss glared at her, making a hand motion as though to tell her to stop insulting the illustrious man. But right at that moment, Aeris didn’t give a damn.

‘If you want something else than money, I would be happy to oblige.’

‘You sound pretty desperate for someone who thinks sex workers are disgusting,’ she said.

‘Chimera,’ Boss intoned. She glared at him, holding up a hand as though to say, _let me deal with this._

Sephiroth inhaled deeply from his end of the line. She was waiting for him to insult her right back, almost disappointed that he was acting so goddamned calm.

‘I will say this once,’ he deadpanned. ‘What happened last time emerged from a pattern of thought that I have since identified as being erroneous. I fully expected you to be angry when I contacted you again. But my patience has limits. I do not usually tolerate being spoken to like this, so I hope you understand that this is a rare privilege that I’m extending to you for the time being. I would advise you not abuse of it.’

Aeris had to actually sit down after listening to that.

‘I can’t believe you,’ she managed. ‘Listen. I’m the one who accepted to take this phone call. So I’ll talk however I want. And if you’re unhappy with that, _nobody’s_ forcing you to talk to me, Sephiroth. You can just take the easy option and leave me alone.’

He waited a beat before answering. Aeris was completely ignoring Boss by now, sitting there gripping the tabletop with one hand and the phone with the other, her eyes vague as she concentrated on the sound of Sephiroth breathing.

‘Let me be clear: I am only asking to try one particular scenario,’ he said. ‘If it doesn’t work out, then I will gladly part ways with you.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Aeris said. ‘I’m the one who picks my clients. Me. And if I don’t trust someone – if I don’t feel safe – then there’s no way I’m going to accept to put myself in a vulnerable situation with them.’

This time he had to think about his answer. Elation swooped through Aeris’s empty chest as she anticipated him saying, _you’re right, what was I thinking, I won’t ever bother you again –_

‘What would it take for you to trust me?’ he asked instead.

The question was so bloody entitled that she had to breathe in and out a few times to calm down.

‘You made it impossible for me to trust you when you _kidnapped me_ ,’ she reminded him.

‘Chimera.’ She could hear beginnings of impatience in his tone. ‘I promise you. I don’t intend to hurt you like I did last time.’

‘Yeah well, they’re just words though, aren’t they?’ Aeris said. Her eyes were getting hot.

‘Let me at least explain what I am asking for,’ Sephiroth said. His voice had gotten lower, more intimate, like he’d tilted the phone closer to his mouth. Aeris closed her eyes, felt her shoulders hunching instinctively. ‘I was told… of a possibility for a safer type of interaction. Where a ‘safe word’ might be established between us. To guarantee your own safety, and my understanding of your limits.’

Aeris brought a hand up to her mouth. She glanced at Boss. He was after all the last person to have spoken to her about this sort of eventuality. Boss stared back, not knowing the accusations that were piling in her head. Again she had the acute feeling of being all alone while he was right there, within reach, not only unable to help her but actually pushing her into harm’s way.

‘Why do you want to do this with me specifically?’ she finally asked. ‘There are other girls who would probably love to enter into a safe, consensual relationship like that, if that’s really what you’re after.’

Sephiroth was silent for a few seconds. Then he said in a strangely curt voice, ‘I do not wish to do this with anyone else. I will send the details of the scenario to your Boss.’ A pause. ‘I would like you to think about what it is you’d like in exchange. And for you to consider me like you would any other client.’

‘I can’t do that, Sephiroth,’ Aeris muttered. ‘You aren’t just any other client.’

‘Please try,’ he said. ‘I will remain in Midgar this weekend, so please make your choice before Monday.’

‘The choice is already made. It’s _no_.’

‘Please think on it a little longer.’

He’d said ‘please’ so much that even in that impersonal tone, Aeris couldn’t help thinking that there was a possibility that the great General might be _begging_ _her_ for it. She sat there for a spell, listening to him breathing on the other end. Then he hung up.

She brought her arm down slowly. The phone made a hollow plastic sound when it touched the desktop. Boss stepped forwards, but she looked away. While he fitted the phone back in its socket, Aeris got up. She couldn’t even look at him.

‘I’m going home,’ she said.

‘Right,’ Boss said in a carefully neutral tone. ‘We can talk about this later.’

She didn’t even have the energy to reply to that. She tied her night gown tighter around her waist, and slipped out the door with a heavy heart.

 

• • •


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's early! :D Most of this chapter needed editing rather than writing, hence the speedy update. Hope you enjoy!

• • •

 

Midgar’s cold grey micro-climate meant that the only way to notice the seasons passing was to check your calendar, or what the local shops were using as decoration. People had begun to put up Christmas lights and artificial pine trees to mark the approaching holiday season, so even Wall Market looked positively cheery with its scavenged faerie lights hanging around disused tank canons and handmade gutter-pipe trees.

Hegemony had come back on Friday bearing gifts for her Bee friends, as she always did when she got booked Upworld for a while. Thanks to her dominatrix work she’d practically become an ambassador for certain latex and lingerie brands, so she got discounts and gifts from an array of expensive stores. She always made a point of distributing her goods to those closest to her, descending onto the Bee like the latex-clad godmother she liked to present herself as. Aeris was glad for her return for entirely different reasons, but it still felt lovely to be pampered.

With the holiday season, even the most elite lingerie brands went a little crazy. Cosied up in Hegemony’s room at the Bee, Aeris watched with a baffled expression as Gem laid out an array of red lingerie with white fur trimmings.

‘And men find that attractive?’ Aeris said with raised eyebrows.

‘You’d be surprised,’ Gem said. She pressed a red bustier against her body and donned a Christmas hat, giving a little twirl. Aeris giggled and looked at the paraphernalia that was laid out on the bed for her choosing. It had been ages since she’d refreshed her own wardrobe, so she gathered up a few of the sparkly white bits at least. Gem was talking about her cruise and Aeris was trying to listen, but she was mostly nodding while trailing her fingers across white nylon. She’d been having trouble concentrating lately.

Truth was, she’d started thinking so hard about what Sephiroth could potentially give her that it was becoming almost unbearable to be in this waiting state. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he’d just accepted her refusal outright, but… since he had given her time to think, or at least _forced_ her to take the time to think, a tiny little part of her mind had started calculating the things that she needed that would take such a long while to obtain without the helping hand of someone of his rank. She wasn’t _actually_ considering seeing him again, but… she didn’t have a bank account. An identity card. A proof of residence or revenue. Paperwork wasn’t something that existed in the slums, after all - at least, paperwork that was recognized by the Upperworld. Without all of those things she could never hope to work on the plate, and yet you couldn’t obtain one without the others, so it was an absolute legal nightmare.

She’d asked around and heard of girls who struck deals with their regulars so they could do a bit of bribing to at least get the ball rolling. And as she listened to them talking about their rich regulars, some of them old and gross and misogynistic, she wondered if she could be as strong as they’d been. If she was capable of putting herself through hell a second time for the sake of kick-starting her own life. But it didn’t have to be Sephiroth – that’s what she told herself. She could climb the ranks without his help, surely. Only… she’d technically reached the top, hadn’t she? He probably had the kind of legal clearance that others only dreamed of, if he could drag someone across Midgar in broad daylight without anyone batting an eyelid. So long as the name _Sephiroth_ was uttered as justification, he seemed to be able to do whatever the hell he wanted.

The most insidious part of this waiting game was that he’d instilled this idea in her mind that _maybe it wouldn’t be hell_ , this time around. That maybe it would be alright, that she might just be grossly overreacting and missing a golden opportunity by saying no.

 

‘Chime?’

Aeris looked up. Gem got up from her dressing table and came to sit on the blood-red duvet next to her. She had a cigarette clamped between her lips, the same that Genesis smoked. Aeris looked at her, unable to sort out what she was feeling.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Gem asked her.

Aeris shook her head. ‘I just… I’m sorry for zoning out.’

‘Psh. I was just being a vain, don’t mind me,’ Gem said, throwing up a hand in much the same gesture that Aeris could imagine Genesis doing. It was odd - since spending a little more time with Genesis, she was beginning to notice little mannerisms that Gem had picked up from him. That was probably what happened when you spent so much time being intimate with someone. She looked away, suddenly ashamed of enjoying Genesis’s gift so thoroughly.

‘I’ve been thinking…’ She picked at the duvet, unable to meet her friend’s eyes. ‘… if maybe I overreacted.’

‘When?’

‘With… you know.’

Gem immediately turned to face her, placing lace-clad hands on her shoulders.

‘Chimera. Look at me.’

Aeris obliged. Gem’s eyes were dark, her impeccably drawn eyebrows joining in a frown.

‘You were assaulted. He assaulted you.’

‘I know, but – ’

’If a man takes what he wants from you without asking permission, you have _every right_ to be angry and scared.’

Aeris smiled. ‘I know that. It’s just… you remember that violent, unstable client you were telling me about the other day, and how you wrung him dry? Had him max out his credit card on you?’

Understanding sparked in Gem’s eyes. Her black lips stretched into a smile. ‘Yeah but you’re not me, Chime. And that guy was no Soldier. You pick your battles with people you can confidently put in a headlock if they start being dicks.’

‘I thought you were the one who was telling me to make his life hell.’

Gem laughed, and then took Aeris’s hands in her own. ‘There are other ways to do that than to see him again. Trash his property. Spread rumours. Give interviews and sell your story for a high price. Give enough details so that they know you’re not making it up, and then drag him as far as you can go.’

Aeris was shaking her head. ‘Yeah but, that would completely kill the Bee’s reputation for discretion, wouldn’t it? There wouldn’t be a single upper-class man who’d want to do business with me, at least. And let’s not even think about the damage to this entire place. Sephiroth would just get his feathers ruffled a bit, while Boss’s links to the Upperworld would all snap one after the other.’

Gem frowned. ‘I feel like you’re trying to justify something. Don’t tell me Boss has been pressuring you to see him again?’

‘No. Not exactly.’ Aeris looked down at Gem’s long fingers, how wrinkled they were under the lace. A lot of junkyard scavengers had the same hands down here. Aeris rubbed her own calloused fingers against Gem’s and tried to find a credible way to say it. ‘Sephiroth expressed interest in an actual proper booking, and he’s offering literally _anything_ I want, and – ’

‘Darling. _Darling,’_ Gem interrupted. ‘He’s a creep. Of course he’s going to say that.’

‘But he’s in a _position_ to give me anything, isn’t he?’ Aeris said, looking desperately at Gem. ‘Am I just wasting a massive opportunity here?’

Gem gave her that look again. ‘Are you really thinking about this?’

‘I don’t know. What’s the worst thing you’ve done for good pay?’

Something flitted across Gem’s face, like pain or perhaps disbelief that Aeris would bring something like that up. Aeris’s heart plummeted. She had asked the same question that Sephiroth had asked her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘That was inappropriate.’

‘This is where it gets mucky, love,’ Gem said. ‘You only do what you think you’re capable of getting up from. I would never encourage anyone to do some of the stuff I’ve done. Especially not you.’

‘I’m not some weak little girl,’ Aeris insisted.

‘I know you’re not. But you’re soft,’ Gem said, squeezing Aeris’s hands. ‘You’re good. And you believe everyone is capable of being good. That isn’t something you want to lose.’

Aeris rolled her eyes. The older woman grinned at her and ruffled her hair before getting up again. Aeris watched as she expelled smoke from her cigarette and returned to her dressing table.

‘Sometimes I do want to lose it,’ Aeris said. ‘That niceness. It’s such a tiring thing to uphold, the belief that everyone deserves patience, empathy, understanding. I wish I could just be – ’

‘Selfish?’ Gem said as she sat down. ‘More concerned about your own rights than other people’s?’

Aeris smiled vaguely. ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

‘Well, I’ll always be here to remind you to be a selfish bitch,’ Gem said. ‘Just remember, Chime – there are always other men. Don’t ever pin all your hopes on one of them, however high-up he is. Your right to be safe is far more important than their right to learn things about themselves.’

Aeris scoffed. ‘Seems obvious enough.’

Gem glanced over at her. ‘Yeah, well – you sounded like you needed reminding.’

 

•

 

Aeris was closing a sale at the bar with a young, moderately attractive punter when a familiar face came in through the doors. Squat, grey-skinned and slightly cross-eyed – it was Delaine, the man she and Hegemony had met at Rufus’s party. The one who owned half of Midgar’s brothels, at least according to Genesis. His misaligned gaze seemed to search the bar for a moment, and then his face locked in her direction. To her dismay he started walking straight towards her.

‘Ah, Chimera!’ he exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly when she already had a man at her arm. She gave her catch a smile.

‘Why don’t you go get yourself a drink at the bar? I’ll be right back,’ she promised him in the most unctuous voice she could muster. The guy seemed a little peeved at being brushed off for the sake of an ugly old man, but he thankfully obliged. Aeris turned her artificial smile to Delaine.

‘How lovely to see you, Mr Delaine,’ she said, extending a hand. Delaine shook it.

At the front doors was an imposing young man who nodded at the bouncers on his way in. He held open the front doors for a third person – a lady this time, wrapped in the kind of fur coat you would wear to far more luxurious places than the Bee. Places that had functional air-conditioning and floorboards that weren’t wonky, for instance. 

The woman had some kind of tattoo hugging her throat, but before Aeris could get a good look, she glanced over at her with the expression of someone who’d just trod in dog shit.

Aeris quickly went back to Delaine.

‘What can I do for you?’ she asked.

‘Well, if it’s not too much of an imposition on your time, I’d like to have a little chat with you,’ Delaine said. ‘Concerning a business proposal.’

‘What? Me?’ Aeris blurted. Her gaze skipped to the woman, who’d sidled up next to Delaine and was still looking around herself like the place was crawling with cockroaches. Aeris was beginning to feel offended.

‘Yes,’ Delaine said. ‘But I wouldn’t ask anything of you without your employer’s blessing, of course. Is he around?’

‘O-of course, yeah,’ Aeris stammered. She lifted an arm, vaguely pointing at the office before steering them towards it. ‘This way, please.’

 

The office door swung open. Boss beheld the cross-eyed man for longer than was polite, then glanced at Aeris before stepping back to let them in.

‘Marcus Delaine,’ he said. Delaine stopped in the doorway to shake Boss’s hand. ‘I never thought I’d see you darkening my door again.’

Delaine arranged his mouth into an even faker smile than Aeris’s.

‘All water under the bridge, my friend,’ he drawled. ‘Love what you’ve done with the place.’ He turned, gestured at his lady companion. ‘Allow me to introduce my friend, here – ’

Boss’s eyes had gone very wide. ‘Miss Snow,’ he said, extending a hand. The lady hooked her satin-gloved fingers over his, and he bowed his head rather than kissing them.

Aeris was equal parts fascinated and totally done with this woman.

She waited for somebody to elaborate regarding who ‘Miss Snow’ was, but the men sat down around the desk instead. Snow stayed standing, as though the chairs weren’t quite good enough for her saintly bottom, so Aeris jumped onto a chair with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ Boss said, eyes still fixed on Snow.

‘I understand that your lovely employee here has turned the head of a very important man,’ Delaine said.

‘Oh Gaia,’ Aeris blurted out. _Not again_. If this was what it was to move up the ranks – to constantly be referred to as the girl who’d bedded such-and-such important figure – then perhaps it _was_ worth it to just be patient and stick to the middle class.

Boss glanced at her with his usual _please shut up_ look.

‘I’m afraid our lovely Chimera here hasn’t been solicited for Upperworld work in the last month,’ Boss said. ‘She likes to do things at her own pace.’

Delaine had found the catalogue on the table, and had started flipping through the pages as Boss talked. He stopped on the glossy page that held the picture of Aeris. Aeris blushed as she saw just how young she looked – it was hardly eight months ago that Boss had taken it, and yet she almost didn’t recognise her rosy-cheeked self with those bright green eyes and spirals of chestnut hair tumbling down her long white throat.

She fidgeted uncomfortably as Delaine stared at the picture, trying not to snap _I’m right here!_

 ‘I would like to borrow her for an assignment,’ Delaine said. ‘There is a new game afoot, and we must centralize every potential actor.’

Boss laced his fingers together. ‘Care to elaborate what this assignment would entail?’

Delaine tilted his head to the side as though mulling over the right words to use.

‘You are of course aware that Avalanche are organizing to try and appeal to the masses, rather than keeping their destructive style of protest?’ Delaine said.

‘Yeah, I’ve heard about what they’re up to,’ Boss said. ‘There are sympathisers all over the slums, meetings being held all over the place. They aren’t exactly discreet.’

Delaine’s misaligned eyes were sparkling. ‘Since the Launch Pad attacks, they’ve been seriously mobilizing. Gaining significant political weight.’

Boss looked down his nose at the man. ‘I thought you were a Shinra man?’

‘Times change,’ Delaine said briefly. ‘One grows tired of disappointments. This movement is fresh and promising, and I think it would not be entirely ludicrous to give them a helping hand.’

Aeris heard Snow give a tiny laugh into her fur collar. Boss interrupted; ‘My workers don’t do politics, Delaine.’

‘Perhaps you should leave that decision to them,’ Delaine said, finally glancing at the real Aeris and including her in the conversation. ‘One of Avalanche’s main campaigns is to stop the massacre in Wutai. They want to do this by bringing to light the illegal genetic tampering of ShinRa’s private army. The Soldiers’ superhuman strength might be common knowledge, but there is a clause in Midgarian law which claims that it is illegal to create genetically modified human beings. ShinRa gets around this clause by claiming that Mako is the only dope that their Soldiers receive. But Avalanche has it on good authority – thanks to some of their members being part of the ShinRa Corporation itself – that there is more than just Mako behind the success of Shinra’s army.’

By now Aeris was totally absorbed by Delaine’s story. She watched him, trying to keep an open mind as he went on; ‘The scandal it would create could be a devastating blow to ShinRa’s reputation.’

Boss was shaking his head. ‘What’s the end goal here, Delaine? Why do you care about this?’

Delaine placed a finger on the desk. ‘There could be the election of a new mayor. One who would be proactive, who would address the ecological issue. One who would handle our international relations far more humanely. And more importantly – there could be the toppling of Shinra Senior to make room for someone who could handle our Mako empire with a less imperialistic approach.’

‘”Someone”,’ Boss echoed dubiously.

‘Yes, it’s all a little too romantic, isn’t it?’ said Snow in a sarcastic drawl. Aeris snapped out of her concentration upon hearing that heavy accent for the first time. It was strangely familiar.

Delaine seemed jarred out of the moment by the lukewarm reaction he was getting.

‘There could be unimaginable benefits from such a change in power,’ Delaine said. ‘Imagine the possibilities. The ecological restructuring of Midgar. The rejuvenation of our land. Even the clearing of the slums and reinsertion of the population into the city’s economy – that’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘That bill has been frozen for decades,’ Boss said. ‘And I doubt you’re really interested in all that, when you’ve done your fair share of extortion down here, haven’t you?’

‘Like I said, my friend. Times change,’ Delaine said with a smile. He took a long cigar from the gold case he kept in an inside pocket, offering one to Boss. Boss took it, clamped it between his teeth.

‘So how do you plan on obtaining that vital piece of information?’ Boss said as Delaine passed him the cigar cutter.

‘We would need a sample of Sephiroth’s blood.’

Aeris went very still. Snow chose that moment to glance at her, so she tried her hardest to keep her chin up and act like this information didn’t sound completely insane.

Boss coughed out a chunk of cigar smoke. ‘Right. I see. So you need Chimera to lure Sephiroth into some kind of trap, so you can – what? Stick him with a needle?’ He shook his head and laughed. ‘I’ve been having a bit of an evening but this takes the cake.’

‘This is all very serious, I assure you. This is currently at the top of Avalanche’s priorities.’

‘Right, right. But, Marcus. I’m sure there are different ways to obtain something like that than such a roundabout method. Avalanche members seem to be _everywhere_ nowadays – don’t tell me they don’t have the resources to do this without resorting to some kind of suicidal honey pot mission.’

‘They were trying of course, in parallel, to obtain resources from the ShinRa lab themselves,’ Delaine explained. ‘But I believe either someone made a mistake or the higher levels got suspicious, because security has since clamped down.’

‘What about Sephiroth’s immediate entourage?’ Boss asked. Aeris looked from man to man as they spoke, her insides turned to jelly by what was being implied.

‘He is very careful about who he frequents,’ Delaine said. ‘It would be a matter of seconds, of course, but it’s impossible to approach him or even distract him without attracting the attention of his allies. The ideal situation would be for him to be alone with someone that he allows himself to be vulnerable around. Hence…’ He gestured at the two women.

Boss hummed thoughtfully. Taking advantage of the small silence, Aeris lifted a finger to let them know that she was still in the room.

‘Um,’ she stammered, ‘just so it’s said, I have _no_ idea if I could do something like this.’

‘That is why I’m here,’ said Snow. Her red eyes were cold as she angled them at Aeris’s face. ‘As you are the one who holds his interest, I will help you learn the skills you’ll need. And if you are incapable, then I will take on the role.’

Aeris didn’t even know what to say. The proposition was so wild and so sudden. On the one hand, she was terrified at the very idea of being given such a huge responsibility. There was also the fact that this was _Sephiroth_ and it meant she’d definitely have to see him again. But on the other hand… she could see Gem’s dark, feral eyes again, those words echoing in her mind. _Make his life hell_.

He had abused of her trust and in a deep, private part of herself, she couldn’t deny that she was tempted to do the same to him.

‘What about protection?’ Aeris found herself asking. ‘How would you protect me? If I tried to trap Sephiroth like that and he found me out or became violent?’

‘Well,’ Delaine said. ‘Snow has a few unique abilities, and I have a network of allies all over the city. I suppose the real issue would be to create the ideal situation in which you would be _sure_ not to be found out. Build a relationship of trust with him so that he is lenient and unsuspecting.’

It sounded like a lot of lying and deceit and a big part of Aeris couldn’t really stomach laying such an elaborate trap for someone. But… then again. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

‘Chimera,’ Boss said, clearly trying to recapture Aeris’s attention away from all this talk of deceit. ‘This is just a conversation. Currently you’re under my protection. You don’t have to work for this man if you don’t want to.’

‘I know that, Boss,’ she said. ‘I’m just trying to understand how this kind of thing would be organised. Hypothetically.’

Delaine was looking at her knowingly.

‘What’s in it for her?’ Boss asked Delaine. ‘What does she get in return?’

‘I will help to establish her fully on the Plate,’ Delaine said. ‘Her and whatever family she has. Housing and work would all be arranged according to her specifications, along with proper Midgarian papers.’

‘You mean you’d give me a position in one of your brothels?’ Aeris asked. Delaine only shrugged.

‘I can find you a position in whatever line of work you prefer. Like I said, I have contacts all over the city.’

Aeris’s heart was galloping by now. It definitely sounded too good to be true. She couldn’t help remembering what Genesis had said – that this guy was a crook, that accepting his help undoubtedly entailed consequences. But, _Gaia,_ if this wasn’t the kind of offer on a golden platter that every Bee girl must dream of hearing – !

Boss seemed wary, and rightly so. It was comforting to look at his disapproving expression instead of letting her imagination run away with her.

‘And what about the hole in the Bee’s revenue that her absence would create?’ Boss said.

Delaine smiled.

‘Well. We could talk about that together at a later date. But I was thinking of buying a share of this place. Which would allow you to finally become a part of my network.’

Aeris watched Boss grind his teeth, once again fascinated by these two men’s relationship and what kind of history they could possibly have. He seemed to be waiting for Delaine to elaborate, so Delaine went on:

 ‘I’ll give you a recap of how my system works, if you so choose to become a part of it. We have expanded significantly in the past ten years. As you know, I profit from a wide range of connections both in the higher spheres of our society and the more, shall we say, _controversial_ spheres. This means that any establishment under my protection and jurisdiction profits from these connections. So.’ He puffed out a stinking string of smoke. ‘Your girls would get more Upperworld contracts. More protection. And most importantly, just like Chimera here, I would make it far easier for them to forge a legal identity on the plate without them having to rely on their clients, like what your current system offers.’

‘So instead of choosing who they would rely on, they would have to run everything by you and give you a substantial cut of their own profits?’ Boss asked. It sounded less like a coherently structured argument than a resounding _Don’t take me for an idiot._ ‘What about these little ‘assignments’ of yours? I expect it’s far more difficult for a girl to be at liberty to refuse when they owe you everything.’

‘I’m not a tyrant. Everything is always up for negotiation. And I wouldn’t be asking you to completely erase all functionalities of your system, either,’ Delaine said. ‘Only, you must understand just how averse to profit your current system _is._ The higher the doxy rises, the more you should hold onto her, not give her away and risk her flying off the radar and being used for obscure purposes.’

‘Listen pal,’ Boss said, leaning forward and making his chair creak ominously. ‘You might do things for your own benefits, but that’s never been the purpose down here. I don’t know if you bothered to take a look outside the train when you came to grace us with your presence, but think about where you are. Think about what this place _is._ These girls want out, and I’m the gateway.’

‘You don’t have complete monopoly over the slum’s sex trade, my friend,’ Delaine scoffed. ‘Don’t talk like you do.’

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves,’ Snow cut in silkily. ‘At the moment, the real question is whether or not Chimera would like to take this assignment. Anything beyond that is just smoke.’

All eyes fell on Aeris’s small figure. She was biting her nails, so she immediately dropped her hand to her lap.

‘I’d… I’d like some time to think about it,’ she managed to say.

There was a silence, like the three others were waiting for her to elaborate. Boss and Delaine had led the discussion with so much self-confidence that it was difficult to sweep in after them when she felt like she barely had a fraction of the facts. She looked pointedly at Boss, trying to get him to understand that she needed to talk about this with him first. Delaine hardly seemed like the kind of guy you got into bed with after only five minute’s thought.

Boss nodded at her, then clapped his hands on his thighs as a way to signal the end of the discussion.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Delaine, Miss Snow, could I tempt you to take a drink at the bar while Chimera and I discuss this?’

 

Aeris watched them leave the room in a trail of fur and expensive cologne. Boss shut the office door after them and then stood there for a spell, as though they’d just shut the door on the sight of an incoming tidal wave.

‘Right,’ said Boss again.

Aeris let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. It whooshed out of her, almost like laughter. Boss’s moustache inched up at the corners as he watched her practically decompressing.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Rewind. How does that man know about you?’

Aeris explained that she’d met him socially at Rufus’s party. Then she narrowed her eyes at Boss.

‘How do _you_ know him? And that woman? You all seemed to have a lot of history.’

Boss’s moustache quirked uncertainly. ‘The woman has been the President’s mistress for a very long time. I think she’s a freelance escort, but I don’t know much about her. As for Delaine – well. Hegemony did mention that he seemed suddenly interested in this place after that party.  I worked as a manager at two or three of his brothels up above, a very long time ago. You could say I left the whole network for… intellectual differences.’

‘So – what about the Bee?’

‘I learned everything I know about managing a place like this thanks to him. But it was still difficult. Since we’d had a falling out, he refused to help me and tried to close most of the Upperworld’s doors to me and my girls. I suppose you could say he isn’t a man who believes in charity, unless that charity is bringing him big profits.’

‘He doesn’t sound very nice at all,’ Aeris mused. Boss chuckled at her word choice.

‘He isn’t, really. Which is why his little speech about doing a one-eighty turn on his principles and wanting to act for the good of this city sounds like poppycock to me.’ Boss leaned against his desk in front of Aeris, smoothing his moustache with two fingers. ‘He’s always been very ambitious. I suspect he’s only hitched his wagon to Avalanche because he’s frustrated by how limited he is under Shinra’s yoke. If he helps these guys out he’s probably expecting them to scratch his back in return.’

‘So do you think this whole assignment thing wouldn’t amount to anything? That he’d just use me to advance his own agenda and then not live up to his side of the bargain?’

Boss glanced at her thoughtfully. ‘As someone who’s worked closely with him, I can tell you, that man lives up to his word. If he promises you something then he delivers. But it has to work both ways or he can make your life very difficult.’ He looked up at the closed door. ‘I’d be interested to hear from his Avalanche contacts, just to confirm that their ambitions do reach as far as this. I’d heard that they were getting big, but… it’s difficult to believe just how much influence they’ve managed to wield over Midgar’s different sectors. Everyone’s tired of ShinRa, of course, and every year brings new reasons to speak out. I suppose that in order to kick start whatever campaign they’re hoping to launch against ShinRa, they need this kind of thing. An information leak. Something credible that they can build on.’

‘I had no idea that they were this established in the city, either,’ Aeris said wonderingly. ‘All those things they want to do, though – completely rehauling Midgar itself – those are just dreams, aren’t they? I’ve met a lot of elderly folk who talk about how things used to be like it’s something unachievable nowadays.’

‘That’s precisely it,’ Boss said. ‘Every election year, party leaders get riled up about how they want to go against the system and change Midgar for the better. They promise all of those things and more. But most of the time the opposition falls flat because people just don’t know how to sound credible next to Shinra Senior. What’s interesting _here_ is that these guys don’t plan to compete with ShinRa or side with any party; they want to tear ShinRa down and build something from the ground up.’

Aeris was going through all those moments when she was younger, back when she still believed in voting. Seeing the posters of the different parties stuck all over the slums, electronic billboards with pixelated faces smiling and repeating their slogans. Nowadays people didn’t even pick up party programs any more. All of that swill about ecology and ‘new energies’ and the industrial upheaval it all meant – nobody believed anyone could pull it off. At least, it wasn’t enough just to believe in fairytales whilst stirring your tea from a Mako-powered kettle and watching the news from your Mako-powered TV. But this wasn’t about scrapping Mako altogether… this would be about toppling the men who had all the power. Maybe starting from that point, all the rest would become easier to envisage.

She was trying to recall the conversations she’d had with Elmyra about the politics of the city, pretending that she _didn’t_ feel that impish delight at the idea of deceiving Sephiroth. She could almost see him, standing with his chin up and his feet apart like all men who don’t believe the world could ever fall away from underneath them. What would happen to him, if he was revealed as the heart of the scandal? What if it triggered a renewed hatred of ShinRa’s presence in Wutai, and he’d get dragged through the streets for all that he’d done? Surely even a super-soldier couldn’t hold his own against an entire city.

And what if… what if she could finally be free of all of them, if she had an entire city backing her up? If Hojo was fired – _fired –_ and the fat cats lost all of their power and all their money… she wouldn’t have to stay here any more. She’d be free.

‘Don’t dream too hard,’ Boss said as Aeris sat there chewing on her thoughts. She glanced up. ‘You have to keep in mind that, however fancy the end goals sound, there are no guarantees. Siding so explicitly with Avalanche has its own consequences while the current hierarchy still stands. And this assignment – it’s extremely dangerous.’

‘I want to do it,’ she heard herself say. Then she smiled at her own impulsiveness. ‘I mean – I at least want to talk to Snow about the ‘skills’ she could teach me. And how much time I’d be given. Just to see if it’s realistic to even think about doing it.’

Boss looked at her, his tiny eyes glimmering through the bushy layers of lashes. Aeris was smiling up to her ears, her blood singing in her veins as she allowed herself to feel this strong. This capable. Here was the opportunity to do something that _mattered_ – something that wouldn’t make her feel like she was sinking into an inescapable pit.

‘This is still Sephiroth we’re talking about,’ he reminded her. She ignored the pang that that name gave her.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I know.’

‘Let’s arrange a meeting with their Avalanche contacts, first,’ he said. ‘And none of this – not a _word_ – leaves this room. You don’t even talk about it to Zack. Or Hegemony. Or any of your friends and family.’

Aeris nodded. ‘I understand.’

 

• • •

 

‘Do you seriously keep all those greens in _biscuit boxes_?’ Gem asked her on Saturday night, hanging around in Aeris’s room in order to get ready for a booking up above.

‘Where else am I going to keep them?’ Aeris said. She was kneeling by her bed, shoving cash from her first booking into a tin box that she kept under one of the floorboards. ‘I don’t know how you can keep all of yours in a sparkly purse that essentially screams _steal me_.’

‘You’re so paranoid,’ Gem said with a smirk. ‘And my sparkly purse doesn’t scream anything. It just says, _I’m very expensive, please feed me._ ’

Aeris snorted. ‘Yeah, well. With biscuit boxes there’s at least a tiny chance that the thief might think I’m storing biscuits under my bed.’

 ‘Speaking from a thief’s perspective, that’s a _very_ tiny chance you’re betting on,’ Gem grinned as she leaned towards the mirror, drawing on her eyebrows. ‘Harmony’s got room to spare in her D-cups otherwise, if you want.’

‘Hm. That wouldn’t be such a bad idea,’ Aeris agreed with a laugh. ‘Might get her more popularity during intros.’

‘Gaia knows she needs a bit of help. The girl’s in a rut at the moment.’

‘Well, aren’t we all?’

‘That’s winter for you.’

‘And,’ Aeris added, ‘it’s not very encouraging to see you hopping off to BDSM clubs and fancy cruises while we’re slaving away down here.’

‘What do you want me to do about it? A hooker’s gotta do what a hooker’s gotta do,’ Gem muttered as she lowered her chin, spraying one last perfumed plume of lacquer into her Mohawk. Aeris snapped the floorboard back into place, trying to figure out how to ask her whether Genesis had booked her lately. She’d been wanting to thank Gem for telling off the First Class at her own expense, but… Aeris wasn’t quite sure whether to do that when business didn’t seem to be particularly booming on that side things. She hoped against hope that Hegemony hadn’t ruined her whole relationship with the man for Aeris’s sake.

She decided to broach the second most urgent topic instead.

‘Speaking of which,’ Aeris started, heaving herself up onto her bed. ‘I may have an… Upperworld booking lined up.’

Gem glanced over at her. ‘An outcall?’

Aeris nodded.

‘Oooh, look at you,’ Gem said in a sing-song voice. ‘Someone I know?’

‘Um. No,’ Aeris practically squeaked. She ploughed on to avoid suspicion; ‘It’s someone I met down here. He asked Boss if I could go up to see him instead.’

‘Did you let Boss organise it for you?’  

‘No,’ Aeris told her. ‘That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you about it. I’m organizing it from A to Z, and I was wondering how to… do it safely.’

Gem tilted her head up, looking very satisfied to be taken for the mentor.

‘Right. Take notes, my very young apprentice. First of all: background check. Make sure he isn’t lying about his paycheck, and that he isn’t a complete psychopath.’

Aeris wanted to laugh. ‘Right.’

‘Second – choose a public place. _Don’t_ go to his place. At least not for the first time, anyway. You should always wait until you know for sure that the guy’s harmless before going to his.’

‘So – where do I go? A hotel?’

‘Love hotel, regular hotel, bath house, swinger’s club, a party, Gaia I don’t know, an elevator – see what he’s into. Choose a place where people will hear you if you shout.’

‘Ok.’ Aeris fidgeted  a little, wondering how much to divulge. ‘What about… if he’s into… you know. The kind of thing that you do. With safewords and stuff.’

‘You what?’ Gem exclaimed, looking at her with wide, glitter-framed eyes. ‘Are you telling me you’re jumping down the rabbit hole?’

‘It’s just the one guy.’ Aeris said with a shrug. ‘I guess I’m… experimenting.’

‘Hm. Good for you,’ Gem said. ‘I’d suggest sticking to the basics for your first ride, just so you don’t embarrass yourself if you figure out it’s not for you. How much are you charging?’

‘I don’t really know yet.’

‘What does he want to do?’

‘Umm…’ She hadn’t thought about that. Immediately there was a wine-stained smile in the forefront of her mind, a hand between her shoulder blades. Cold leather against her skin. She gripped the duvet, trying her damnedest to keep up the nonchalant act. ‘I think it’s just going be… some light stuff. Spanking. I don’t know. Maybe some whipping.’

‘So he wants the full regular service plus some basic s-and-m extras?’

‘I think so,’ Aeris said. She was struggling to keep her voice above a whisper. Gaia, she had been on her little cloud of idealism – she’d almost forgotten what the booking itself required.

‘If he’s got the money, go into the thousands for that,’ Gem said firmly. ‘For one hour, I’d say… two thousand.’

One hour… wouldn’t that be a little bit short for her assignment? She’d been thinking of taking the sample while he slept, or perhaps inebriate him in some way. But waiting for him to be in an altered state of consciousness would mean pulling an all-nighter at the very least, and… Gaia, she didn’t know if she could stand the idea now that she really thought about it.

 ‘If he’s very rich, ramp it up to what’s appropriate according to his paycheck,’ Gem added, giving the last flick of her pencil to her eyebrows. ‘Now, which end would you be on for the s-and-m? Giving or receiving?’

‘Receiving,’ Aeris said through gritted teeth. ‘Actually, I was wondering about something. You know how you said you could get me a gun?’

Gem grinned. ‘Don’t think for one second that I’d let you go out there without making sure you can shoot first. You’d need lessons.’

‘As long as they can be quick.’

‘You don’t learn how to shoot in one night,’ Gem sniffed. ‘There’s a whole art to it.’

‘How come you have such easy access to guns in the first place?’

‘Well… when you’re a child of the Underground, you know. Anything’s possible.’

The question seemed to have turned her uncharacteristically shy. Intrigued, Aeris asked, ‘You grew up in the slums?’

‘Born and raised,’ Gem said. Her glimmering appearance seemed to contradict any notion of her spending her childhood scavenging in mountains of garbage. ‘Well, _raised_ is a relative term.’

‘I’m with you there,’ Aeris said. ‘But who needs a good childhood, right? We’ve turned into perfectly stable people.’

Gem laughed at that. For a moment both girls seemed to gauge whether or not to divulge something as personal as their childhoods to one another. Then Gem seemed to decide against that particular conversation, straightening up and smoothing out her Mohawk.

‘When it comes to guns, at least – leave it with me. Now, here’s how you’re going to sell your booking to your client…’

 

• • •

 

The dust kicked up around Hegemony’s feet as she headed towards the Hounds’ Sector 4 HQ. The night had been profitable, and reluctant as she might be to share her cut of the benefits, it was her duty. The strained skin in between her shoulder-blades attested to that.

In normal circumstances she did everything to cover up that burn-mark, the mark of her allegiance down here that every gang child suffered as soon as they were of age to start working for their elders. But it was the best protection one could imagine to walk bare-backed and unconcealed in the alleyways of the slums. That is, as long as it was Hound territory. She’d pulled her shaggy hair up in a ponytail, and hadn’t even bothered hiding the guns she wore at either hip. Any eager slummer looking for trouble would get the fuck out of her way as soon as they realized whose protection she was under. 

The Sector 4 Underground was crawling with activity. Gem didn’t look even slightly out of place with her modified silhouette as she climbed down the ladders that joined the multitude of steel platforms. She walked amongst what ShinRa saw as the defaced and crippled, the hulks and creeps and self-proclaimed leaders who made up the gang community. A lot of women opted for shaved heads so it was slightly difficult to make the difference between genders. In any case, the grubby lighting down here made everyone look skeletal and slightly inhuman.

 _‘Gemmaaa!_ ’ The string of kids erupted as usual, jumping around her and grabbing at her hands. She smiled down at them, noting the head of the Hound scar peeking out from their tops as they spun around her.

Once she’d finished greeting the usual acquaintances and people she’d grown up with, she’d reached the main platform, the largest one that led to different niches in the walls where the leaders did their business. She passed the makeshift workshops where men were hammering at wasted blades and repairing guns that the scouts scavenged from garbage disposals. Then there were the specialists who handled the finer weapons they received through trade and connections; and further on, there were those who gathered materia and tried to put together the shards that always littered industrial Upperworld trash.

Gem couldn’t help stopping at the materia workshop, running her hands along the surface of a shard-ridden tray. The multicoloured pebbles rolled and shone dully between her fingers. It had been her passion as a kid, finding shards in the filth or picking tourists’ pockets, feeling like she was some great archeologist or treasure hunter.  

‘Them’s wasted,’ grunted one of the materia restoration artists. ‘They’ll serve as nothing ‘xcept jewellery if I polish ‘em hard enough.’

‘What are you working on?’ Gem asked him. The old man huffed a little as he uncovered the desk where he was working. A dozen orbs glittered up at her, most of them green or yellow.

‘Got some rare All shards that passed the test,’ the man told her. ‘And the kids found some of those red pieces. Said they’d finally found a Summon, but the pieces won’t work independently. We’ll see what the bugger’s worth once put together.’    

‘Cool.’ Gem felt the old childish awe growing inside her at the sight of the orbs, cracked and imperfect as they were. She wondered what Sephiroth’s Esuna had looked like, the one that Chimera had refused to steal… probably a perfect sphere, the inner essence not dulled in the slightest by any foggy fractures.

There was a sudden warmth on her back. She shivered as she felt fingertips tracing the circle of the coiled Hound between her shoulder blades. She turned her head, but the hand withdrew. A man’s arms came around her before she could turn around fully, hands tying something around her neck.

‘The kids found an old crate full of Mako syringes,’ the man offered as an explanation as she turned to face him. He was around the same age as her, long dreadlocks tied in a big messy bun behind his head, unkempt beard accentuating his hollow cheeks. ‘Looks gorgeous on you.’

Gem looked away uncomfortably. She untied the gift, contemplating it in her clean white hands: it was a choker with a Mako vial dangling from black ribbons.

She looked up with an apologetic smile. ‘It’s cute...’

Upon seeing her expression, the man’s joyful expression withdrew as quick as a clam. ‘But you get a thousand times better thanks to your First Class, I know.’

‘Bastien,’ the woman chastised him. She hated how highly-strung she was around this guy when she saw far more dangerous men on a regular basis. ‘I can’t wear personal effects for work.’

‘Why the fuck not? You’re mine,’ Bastien said. ‘You ought to have at least a token relating to us. I know you always wear _his_.’

‘It’s only work, and you know that,’ she told him, angrily shoving the gift against his chest. He didn’t take it.

‘I know it’s work. You’re the one who doesn’t seem to understand that,’ Bastien spat at her. ‘He doesn’t give a shit about you, you know. And even if he did, he’s from another world. When are you going to get that in your head?’

Heart pounding at the truth of what he was saying, Gem looked away. She hadn’t heard from Genesis since that argument they’d had, and… she didn’t want to think about it.

‘It’s only work, I said,’ she insisted. Bastien pulled her against him forcefully in response.

‘We have far more than what you could possibly have with him,’ he told her. ‘Remember that.’

She pushed away from him, irritated as always by how he brought her back to reality, how trapped he made her feel – in the movement her fingers loosened their hold, and the vial shattered at Bastien’s feet. Green oozed over his shoes. He looked at her. Veins popped against the skin of his muscular arms as he grabbed her.

‘ _Baz – ’_

‘Every time,’ he shouted. ‘Every single time you go to the Upperworld, you come back so fucking full of yourself. Aren’t we good enough for you? Is that what you think?’

She instinctively turned her head as he shook her and shouted right in her face. He was drawing the attention of a few other members, though his voice was slightly drowned by the smiths’ hammering in the workshops behind them. Down here, the only law was the elders’ law; they decided on couples, on childbirth, on what role you had in the community. And even if she’d loved Bastien for a long time, believing there was something special about there being someone out there who’d been chosen just for her… that had been before she’d known the luxury of the world outside the slums. Before she’d discovered the existence of tact and refinement and… well. Everything was so _clean_ up there. And the men were just so worldly and sophisticated. Nothing like down here.

‘Let _go_ of me, for fuck’s sake – ’

‘What do the men up there have that we don’t, huh?’

She looked up at him. She could see right through his anger, how hurt he was, how he ached for some time of recognition on her part. But she felt the grip of his calloused fingers squeezing her arms much more keenly than any empathy, and suddenly there flashed the image of Chimera, poor, innocent little Chimera and her purple eye; and she forgot herself.

“Nothing,’ she hissed. ‘You’re all the same in this city.’ Then she wrenched out of his grip and grabbed one of her guns, cocking it and aiming right at his face, knocking the barrel against his forehead and breathing so hard that it felt like she was expelling all the love and hatred and contradictory feelings she’d ever borne for this man. _You were never good enough for me_ , she wanted to scream. She forgot sometimes, that it didn’t change anything to struggle against iron shackles.

He looked at her. It seemed so obvious to her that his anger was only a cover-up for his bruised ego; he’d never been good at exteriorizing anything soft or sincere. It always had to go through blind abuse. And at that moment, she hated him _so much_. Hated him for being him, lacking complexity, holding her back. Hated him though she knew she was only taking out on him what the entire clan made her feel. It was unfair. But nothing was ever fair in this place.

In an instant she was seized from behind, the guns wrenched from her grip. She wriggled in protest but a sharp slap and a yelled order remedied that. Once she’d grudgingly lowered her head and put down her hands, she followed them to the correctional shack where she diligently took the punishment for holding an honest man at gunpoint.

Bastien was waiting for her when she came out. She glared at him, and he glared back, but they walked and folded up the incident in their minds, stowing it away neatly with the thousands of others. He accompanied her to the Hound leaders’ sector, and they passed the shacks and workhouses of the community they’re grown up in together.

‘We should stop making each other look like idiots someday,’ he ventured after they’d walked on in companionable silence.

She snorted at that, hands in her pockets. ‘Speak for yourself.’

‘What business have you got with the Leaders anyway?’

Gem looked up at him and smiled a sharp smile. ‘Sex with Soldiers is getting political, so here I am.’

‘You’re not being funny, Gem.’

‘Sure I am.’

His head was bowed, teeth grinding. ‘When are they going to sign you off that job? It’s been ages now.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe when my First Class _buys_ me.’

‘That’s what you’d like isn’t it?’ There he was, hiding behind rudeness again.

‘Yes, Bastien. That’s what I’d like.’ She said it only to spite him.

‘Fucking whore,’ Bastien growled to himself, shaking his head, and she looked at him exasperatedly.

‘Yeah, but this whore has enough bling to put Don Corneo to shame, and she gets to see things you never will.’

‘You can keep those things to yourself. I’d rather be down here and keep grips on who I am than kiss those bastards’ arses.’ He looked a bit nauseous. ‘Or any other body part.’

Gem afforded him a grin. ‘That’s the downside. Can’t always choose the arse to kiss.’

‘Yeah well. You can’t complain. Got yourself the pretty boy, haven’t you?’

He seemed to have calmed down and reverted to a helpless sort of tolerance, so she nonchalantly slipped an arm through his, the usual feeling of guilt beginning to settle.

‘He’s got nothing on you,’ she told him playfully, and he barely grunted in response.

‘Don’t start with the tender bullshit. I’m not used to that.’

‘I’ll be tender if I fucking well please.’

He was finally grinning, though apparently trying to suppress it to keep true to his _manly_ character. They’d come to the wide, pipe-lined and oil-stinking entrance of the leader’s niche. She left Bastien there, kissing him insolently on the cheek and turning her back on him before he could protest.  
  
The men were milling around the leaders’ enclave, talking amongst themselves. Gem automatically tuned out the conversations about rival gangs’ movements and the usual political banter. Her hard-earned money passed into the treasurer’s hands, and the men looked at her without even the slightest hint of appreciation; it was a customary transaction. As always she felt vaguely insulted at the lack of distinction between working women. She frankly busted her arse and brought them more money than the majority of Hound members, and yet she was still treated as mildly as any other girl. The men went on earning titles for far less profitable deeds than what the clan women did, but nobody ever spoke up about it. The only aspect that brought her a semblance of respect was the fact that she served as a bridge between the gang and the heads of ShinRa. The Hounds’ spiritual father would listen to the intel she’d bring in, but since their main preoccupations were with rivaling gangs and financial sustenance, they’d never taken into consideration the opportunity of using her for something more complicated than money.

  
While she was taking care of the details, their spiritual father – otherwise known as the Guard – looked over at her, summoning her to him once she’d finished. Every girl had a crush on that man when they were small; well, down here you had a crush on power, and any man who wielded it. So naturally, being older, every woman wrestled for a bit of his attention or any sign of favoritism. She headed over to his elaborately decorated desk in order to debrief the evening, impressed as always by the man’s scarred face and imposing presence. She’d been hired by a luxury dining salon to dance with several other girls. There had been a few ShinRa heads but she’d never got close enough to hear anything interesting.

‘You’ve done a good job keeping your First Class interested for this long,’ the Guard said, stroking his tamed Guard Hound. ‘Times are changing, Gemma. You should hold onto him while you can.’

It was difficult to ignore the stab that those words gave her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what we think of ShinRa down here,’ the Guard told her with a glimpse of irony in his gaze, as if he knew just how divided she was in her affections. ‘And the rise of this new ecological movement might just be our saving grace.’

She’d seen posters in the streets of every Sector. This Avalanche group seemed set on tearing down everything that ShinRa stood for and rallying everyone to their cause. But… she didn’t want to admit that she’d fallen in love with the dancing lights of the Upperworld, the spotless glass walls and the hope of a better life – the Hounds had always held onto the belief that ShinRa would one day fall and they’d accede to some type of freedom, but it was a utopia, a mere fantasy. ShinRa would never fall… would it? She didn’t want to believe that she’d changed sides, but the mere thought of that scintillating world vanishing made her insides twist with fear.

The Guard kept an eye on the professional indifference of her expression, looking for cracks.

‘It’s come to my attention that you’re becoming rather fond of your other life,’ the man said in a threateningly calm tone. ‘You know that it’s all a dream, don’t you Gem? That it’s all fake?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I hope I can count on you when the time comes.’

‘Of course, sir.’

 

• • •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The character of Snow is loosely based on a Northern Continent boss from the OG. You'll get to know her a little better later on, of course. ( http://finalfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Snow_(Final_Fantasy_VII) )


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've read this so many times now that I'm completely blind to its faults, so please tell me if I should cut anything out. It's super long and the dialogues ran away with me a bit, though most of them are plot-relevant, I swear. :'D Thanks so much for reading!

• • •

 

Genesis had a habit of monitoring how much he’d improved by sparring against simulations of himself – earlier versions, results of collated data from month-old performances. Sometimes, when Sephiroth wasn’t around, he’d spar against earlier versions of Sephiroth just to see where he stood. It infuriated him that he only managed to win against teenage versions of the other man. Sephiroth kept tabs, just out of curiosity – he of course had access to who used his simulations, and for what purposes. Out of tact, he didn’t bring it up. At least, not any more. He remembered once when Genesis had been strutting around the HQ like nothing could possibly touch him, and Sephiroth had checked his VRS log to see that Genesis had finally beaten Sephiroth’s thirteen-year-old self. He’d chided him about it, and Genesis had turned _vicious_. He’d learnt his lesson.

Sephiroth had spent most of that Sunday going through stacks of fresh new support materia, testing combinations and how the pieces reacted. Genesis had stayed in the VRS by himself while Sephiroth wrote his reports – materia testing usually went quite fast. Then Genesis had sauntered past the bar where Sephiroth was working, tapping two fingers on his table and saying he had to take a conference call with Angeal. He’d be back later for some more sparring.

When Sephiroth went back to the VR room, he checked who Genesis had been testing his melee weapons against on the VRS log. Purely out of habit.

_Subject S, First Class. Age: 19._

Sephiroth blinked. Genesis had never been able to consistently beat any higher than Sephiroth’s sixteen-year-old self. He checked the stats, saw that Genesis had kept the upper hand for most of the duels. He’d not only beaten him once but had kept at it, stringing together duel after duel and going further up the months. There wasn’t a single red ‘Defeat’ marker on the monitor. He’d stopped just a few weeks short of Sephiroth’s twenty-year-old data collections, but not because he’d failed to beat him – probably more due to time constraints.

A small smile pulled at the corner of Sephiroth’s mouth. The man was working hard. _Really_ hard. Pride swelled in his chest at he imagined how fast Genesis would get to Sephiroth’s current level if he kept it up. After all, even Sephiroth himself had trouble beating versions of himself whose performances were drastically boosted by the higher Mako dosages of that time.

He checked the stats of the last nineteen-year-old version of himself that Genesis had bested. A young face appeared on the monitor, silver hair pulled back in a ponytail, eyes bright and wild. Those had been the last years of madness, the last years of extreme Mako dosages. He could still remember how much sharper everything felt back then. How oversensitive his body always felt. How even the slightest of stretches triggered awareness of each ligament, each joint rotation and elongated muscle. How the rain had felt against his skin.

He stared at that youthful face, neck and shoulders so much leaner than he was used to seeing in the mirror. Acting on a rare impulse, he clicked _Replay_ and slipped into the VR room _._

 

•

He’s facing a Wutain temple near the cliffs of Da Chao. The air is thick with the smell of rain and wet earth. No one’s around – empty houses surround the temple grounds. There’s something missing. He remembers what happened at this temple. The bloody hand prints on the walls. The bodies pressed together inside that holy place. They had prayed for days to gods who didn’t care enough to save them.

The rotten scent of blood is missing from the simulation. It’s far too clean. Sephiroth looks up at the long, rain-slick beams of the pagoda, the bright red paint that stands out against the grey. Blood had looked almost black against that cheery colour.

Figures flicker into life around him – Wutains wander from house to house, and ShinRa troops march through the streets. Sephiroth watches as a tall adolescent emerges from behind the pagoda. Silver ponytail, standard First Class uniform... it's him. He’s walking by one of his old commanders who died in battle years ago. Sephiroth remembers the lewd jokes, the slaps on the shoulder, the shared bottles of saké. He’d been one of the first to congratulate those who stacked a certain number of ‘conquests’, whether they were daring kills or Wutain brothel girls. Sephiroth remembers how he talked about women like they were a selection of multicoloured ribbons to pin to your chest.

Sephiroth grits his teeth.  He never inherently disliked the man, only now – he can’t get rid of the impulse to wrench that boy away from him. He walks towards himself. The commander’s eyes slide over Sephiroth, set to respond only if prompted. Sephiroth stops in front of himself, places a finger on the boy’s chest to stop him. The adolescent looks up at him. Sephiroth takes in the mud-spattered neck, the clenched jaw, the redness around the eyes. He remembers being that person, only… he doesn’t remember the reasons he gave himself. The way it felt to be so careless. Pumped up with the freedom of being away from Midgar, of being completely unmonitored and high off his face on Mako. He suddenly wants to hurt that boy, for doing things without understanding that they might change him, haunt him, stick like chewing gum to the underside of his boots for years to come. He looks into those bright eyes and finds himself wanting to ask, _who are you? Who the hell are you?_

He shakes his head. Only a coward places the blame on peer pressure and psychotropics.

He flips open his phone to end the simulation. It doesn’t feel good to admit that he can hardly stand in his own presence for more than a few seconds.

 

•

Come sundown, the girl still hadn’t replied. Sephiroth wasn’t thinking about it.

… alright, he was thinking about it. Maybe just a little bit. His frustration at having to wait two entire weeks if she responded too late came as a surprise – he hadn’t anticipated just how much he’d been hoping that she’d say yes.

He and Genesis exited the ShinRa HQ at a far more reasonable hour than Saturday. Genesis was talking about a party he was attending tonight. It was a book launch by a friend of his, and seeing the kind of insufferable literature nerd Genesis became once he was surrounded by his poet friends, Sephiroth wasn’t exactly inclined to go. Genesis was just beginning to rant about how it was their last night before they got shipped out again when Sephiroth’s phone buzzed against his thigh.

‘Can you just – ?’ Sephiroth said to shut his friend up as he fished the phone out of his pocket.

‘No, I will _not_ stop,’ Genesis said. ‘You’re such an elitist snob. It wouldn’t kill you to branch out from time to time. There’ll be free champagne, too.’

‘You’re calling _me_ an elitist snob?’ Sephiroth protested. He looked at Genesis, the way the streetlights deepened the stark red colour of his hair. The man had stopped mid-rant, his mouth twisted into a smile.

‘Fine. If you want to go shut yourself up in your immaculate sarcophagus of a flat for our last hours of freedom, don’t let me stop you.’

Sephiroth shook his head and checked the caller ID on his phone.

It was the Bee.

‘Look, shut up for two seconds, I need to take this,’ Sephiroth said.

Sulking, Genesis took out his cigarette packet and wandered over to the edge of the pavement to wait for cabs.

Sephiroth swiped ‘Answer’ and pressed the phone to his ear.

There was a silence, and then a flat female voice: ‘Hi.’

For a moment he was caught off-guard. He’d been expecting the manager rather than Chimera herself, seeing how hard it had been to get her on the line at all. His gaze drifted curiously up to the HQ, following the streaks of light across its glass walls.

‘Good evening.’

‘Is the deal still on?’

The corner of his mouth twitched.

‘Yes, it is,’ he muttered.

‘Alright. If this is happening at all, it’ll have to be on my terms. At least for tonight. If you disagree with any one of my terms then you’ll have to find yourself someone else.’

Gaia, that tone she was using. She was awfully bold for someone who couldn’t even dream of defending herself against him. It reminded him of how she’d allowed herself to speak to him the last time he’d called her. There was something outrageously thrilling about it – about how fearlessly she talked back, almost inviting his wrath. Nobody dared to talk to him like that apart from his peers. He reminded himself not to call her out on it, since that ‘yes’ had been very hard-won.

‘Take me through it, then,’ he said.

He heard her draw in a breath. Visualized those plump lips unsticking.

‘I want to open a bank account up above. I don’t have credible papers, so you’ll have to bribe whoever it is that needs bribing. That, and I’m charging you ten thousand Gil.’

This time he allowed himself to smile. So she really would accept to do something she found repulsive, as long as he was paying enough. He reigned in the comment, not wanting to aggravate her when she was showing herself to be so cooperative.

‘Done,’ he said.

‘The booking will last one hour,’ she added. ‘I’ll give you a run-down of my rules. No objects of any kind, no Greek, no hitting me in the face – ’

‘Greek?’ Sephiroth echoed. He saw Genesis glance over his shoulder at him quizzically, so he turned around and stepped further away for more privacy.

‘Um – it’s – I mean. Non… vaginal sex,’ Chimera stammered. ‘Backdoor entry. You know.’

Sephiroth frowned at her word choice before realizing what she meant. ‘Ah. Right.’

She cleared her throat. ‘Yes. That’s a no. And no talking. No humiliation. No ripping my clothes – ’

‘Is there a list of things I _can_ do?’

‘Well, we can… talk about it. I’m not ready to offer much more than a rough regular service. Not… not yet.’

His lower belly tightened as he noted the dip in her self-confidence. ‘I’m not at liberty to talk right now,’ he intimated. ‘But I’m sure that you could limit me in the moment. With the ‘words’ I was talking about.’

‘Oh yes, you mean safe words? You know how they work, right?’

‘It was explained to me, yes.’

‘We can start with your basic three-colour system. Red, amber, green. Red to stop, amber to proceed with caution, green to go.’

It sounded completely ridiculous. ‘I didn’t realise we’d be chanting traffic light colours at each other.’

‘Unless you’ve thought about something more creative, it’s just the standard,’ she told him. ‘For when I reach my limits. Every time I want you to stop for real, I’ll say ‘red’. It’s not about you asking permission or both of us constantly saying what’s good and what isn’t. It’s about me having the ability to say no to you. And you listening.’

He wasn’t sure if he appreciated just how many limits she was imposing upon the session. It all felt very theatrical, very set-up rather than the kind of raw release he’d been fantasizing about. He glanced over at Genesis again, wondering how the man could possibly appreciate something so tied up in rules.

Still, it had been his decision. He’d wanted to see if it could be just as good to play by the rules, so he at least had to try.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ll be coming up soon? If you have to leave again before the last night train.’

‘One last thing – I won’t be going to yours,’ Aeris said. The furrow in Sephiroth’s brow deepened. She seemed to be bent on ruining the experience he wanted, wasn’t she? He could feel anger pricking at his fingertips at how she was taking advantage of his lenience. ‘We’ll be doing this in a public space or not at all.’

He would’ve let his anger run away with him if he hadn’t noted that tremor in her voice. She sounded so scared, even with how valiantly she kept up the imperatives.  A shiver ran down his spine as he imagined her trembling fingers, the way goosebumps pricked her skin when he so much as stepped closer to her.

He’d definitely enjoyed seeing her in her full regalia at Rufus’s party, so he could very well imagine something happening in that sort of setting. If that’s what she meant by ‘public’, anyway. His gaze flickered to Genesis’s brooding figure again, leaning against a lamppost reading a book, and the idea formed instantly in his mind.

‘There’s a party Genesis and I are going to tonight,’ he said smoothly. ‘Would that be suitable?’

A pause. ‘Oh,’ Chimera let drop. ‘I – I was thinking of a hotel or something, but… I guess that could work. Yeah. That would be perfect.’

Gaia, that trembling voice. He balled his free hand into a fist.

‘I’ll send you the address,’ he said. ‘Be sure to notify me when you arrive.’

‘I will. Just so you know – the timer starts when we’ve become aware of each other.’

‘I’ll remember that.’

When he got back to Genesis’s side, the redhead gave him a sidelong glance.

‘You’re up to something.’

‘I’m coming with you, that’s all,’ Sephiroth said. Genesis’s eyes narrowed.

‘Fine. But I’ll kick you out the moment you badmouth my friends.’

Sephiroth smirked. ‘You know I can be a perfect gentleman if it’s required of me.’

‘Yeah,’ Genesis scoffed. ‘Sure.’

 

• • •

 

Aeris steps out of the cab. Ahead, there’s a building that looks like an ultramodern bookstore. The walls are glass and shiny black slabs; the inside is lit by faerie lights and chandeliers. She can see people milling around, exotic plants arching in the corners, ladders and bookshelves cutting the space up. Breathing out, she closes her eyes and casts a small Healing Wind on herself just to splinter the battering ram of anxiety that’s been pummeling her heart for the past few hours. She straightens her milk-white shirt, smooths her black miniskirt at the back. Her garters strain against her thighs as she walks and she reminds herself, _it’ll be OK, Genesis is there. Genesis is there._ She just has to find him first, and then everything will be fine.

 She goes in through the open front doors. She’s glad she didn’t overdo it with her clothes – everyone here is dressed in that upper-middle-class ‘bohemian’ fashion, the kind of floaty asymmetrical stuff that tries to imitate Cosmo Canyon simplicity whilst costing you an arm and a leg. The lighting is dim but sets a warm, golden atmosphere. Aeris looks around herself at the book shelves, the low tables all set up with the novelist’s new book. She discreetly checks the blurb on one of the propped-up books in case anyone asks her about it. It’s… some kind of romance about a ShinRa soldier and a Wutain girl? It’s acclaimed by the critics as being ‘edgy’. Huh. She looks up again. There’s a square desk in the centre of the room that seems to be serving champagne, so she heads over there.

She can feel the golden necklace nestled in her cleavage as acutely as if it were made of ice. Even so, it’s still hard not to reach up and make sure it’s still there every five seconds. Snow showed her how to use it. Twist the golden tube to prepare it, press the tip against the forearm, the back of the hand, the fingertips or anywhere with an apparent vein. Press the button at the other end. Done. Twist it further and you uncover a little strip of glass, so you can check to see if it’s drawn anything at all. Aeris has practiced on herself a dozen times with a spare that Snow had – the one she used was the same basic design even if it wasn’t done up to look like jewellery. Apparently it’s similar to something that’s widely used by people with diabetes, or something like that – Aeris didn’t really listen to that part. She’d been too worried about the prick she felt. There was definitely a prick, and if Soldiers were as hypersensitive as their reputation suggested…

She hopes against hope that she can somehow do it tonight, so she’ll never have to see him again. In all the confusion of biting and scratching and pushing and grabbing, surely she’ll manage to do it without him noticing. She takes a glass from a smiling bartender, smiles, and tries not to down the champagne in one go.

First, locate Genesis.

She turns back around, scans the room. Young men and women stand in clusters of four or five, most of them talking enthusiastically though it stays at a respectable level. There are occasional shouts of glee but otherwise, it’s civilized. There’s music, too, so the conversations weave into a sort of blanket of noise. Aeris strains her ears, tries to pinpoint Genesis’s voice as she scans the crowd for red hair.

There’s a loud laugh, someone bending at the waist to slap their thigh. Aeris’s gaze is automatically drawn to the little group. _Gotcha._ A young bearded fellow is standing next to Genesis and several women, looking very pleased with himself as they laugh at whatever joke he was making. Aeris recognises him as the author from the picture on the book blurb. She lowers her chin, tries to put on a brave face and makes her way over to them.

Gaia, the anxiety is back with a vengeance. She tries to breathe in and out, dithering just before she reaches them. A waiter is going around with canapés, so she stops him and chooses from the selection of mini-quiches. One thing that seems to work marginally better than breathing is to chew on something – she stuffs a spinach quiche in her mouth, grabbing two more before he leaves.

‘Aeris?’

Her heart drops upon hearing her real name. She looks up. Genesis is frowning over at her, his lips still wearing a smile from his earlier conversation. He turns towards her and breaks away from his friends, thankfully sparing her the effort of introducing herself to the host of the goddamned party.

‘What _are_ you doing up here?’ Genesis says a little too loudly. He opens an arm, gathers her up against his chest before she can even squeak a hello. The mini quiches are getting squished between them, so she stammers something about crumbs and they laugh for a minute as Genesis brushes himself down.

He’s clearly in party-mode, his eyes glittering and his manners more boisterous than usual. Aeris doesn’t know if she’s smiling because of panic or because she’s painfully glad to see him. She almost wants to hug him again for being there – but she needs to inform him of her little problem before he can help her.

‘I’m, uh. I’m here for work.’

‘Oh!’ Genesis says, eyes widening. ‘Right, sorry. I’ll keep the name to myself then, shall I?’

‘If you could, yeah,’ Aeris says with a grateful nod.

He has the tact not to ask who her client is, though she notices how his gaze darts around as though to judge who could be worthy of her. ‘How’ve you been, anyway?’

She finds herself telling him about how she’s back at the Bee, and he congratulates her, deciding the occasion needs celebrating. He stops a passing waiter to grab more champagne for them. He takes four champagne flutes, glass clinking in his hands, and Aeris laughs at how little he cares for appearances.

 They drink and talk about work for a moment – Genesis tells her briefly about the situation in Wutai, how Zack is doing (he doesn’t seem overly enthusiastic about that part), and then mentions that he’s been in the city for the weekend. Aeris takes the opportunity to ask him whether he’s seen Hegemony – and Genesis just raises his eyebrows, as though indicating that it’s a touchy subject. Aeris feels a stab in her chest at the idea of them splitting up.

‘Can’t say that I have,’ Genesis says. ‘I’ve really been quite busy.’

That’s all he has to say about it – he steers the conversation back to her and her own life after that. He teases her about how much she misses Zack, saying, ‘How anyone could miss that insufferable pup is beyond me. You’re far too good for him, you know.’

It’s so comfortable to be around him, especially in this sociable mode of his, that Aeris ends up letting him walk her around the room instead of notifying Sephiroth that she’s arrived. She can’t see him anywhere, so she tells herself that this is just a necessary step, a form of self-care before hurling herself to the wolves.

‘Have you read the novel at all?’ Genesis asks once they’re walking along the bookshelves at a safe distance from the author himself.

‘No,’ Aeris admits. ‘I don’t usually invest myself that much in my bookings.’

‘It’s probably good that you haven’t,’ Genesis mutters. ‘The exoticism in there kills me. If you ask me, it’s a load of pretentious garbage.’

Aeris splutters into her champagne, giving him a sidelong glance. ‘ _Genesis!_ ’

‘What?’

‘I thought the guy was your friend?’

‘He is, bless him,’ Genesis says. ‘But he’s never set foot in Wutai. He manages to make Soldier camps sound romantic, and talks about Wutain women like this.’ He clears his throat, throws out a hand. ‘She had the long legs of a gazelle, and the big wet eyes of a doe. Her skin was brown like the soft leather of a cow, and her breasts hung full and heavy like plentiful udders – ’

Aeris snorts, so he says ‘You see?’ and begins to dissect the plot entirely. Aeris nods along, noting the specific jargon he uses and how passionate he seems to be about something called ‘genre tropes’. She mentions to him that she hasn’t really had the occasion to read that much lately, especially not what’s considered to be academically good, so he quizzes her about the books she does know and after twenty minutes of conversation he’s practically given her a full shopping list.

‘I have one at home that I think you’d appreciate,’ he says, his eyes having gotten very bright with the champagne and all this talk about literature. ‘Zack mentioned once that you grew flowers – I have this big, ancient almanac that I found at Bone Village up north, it’s got a goat-skin cover – ’

‘Wait,’ Aeris interrupts him, frowning. ‘Zack mentioned that?’

Genesis arches an eyebrow at her. ‘The poor lad is smitten with you. I hope you know that. Though perhaps it would please you to know that he hasn’t been _quite_ as vocal about you now that you’ve passed the, uh, ‘honeymoon stage’ of the relationship, to employ the parlance of the young.’

Aeris laughs. ‘You talk like an old man.’

‘If you knew how very old I feel sometimes,’ Genesis says dramatically. He sways a little, so she stabilizes him with a hand on his shoulder so that he doesn’t bump into her. Gaia, he’s had a bit to drink. ‘Especially around boys like that. I have no idea how you can stand such an energetic attitude.’

The mentions of her fake relationship with Zack make her yearn for a safe and normal life, as always. She thinks about the last time she’d seen him, before he got shipped back to the Launch Pad border. They’d spent the night at Elmyra’s, curled up around hot chocolates and gossiping just like back when they were teenagers. When he had to leave in the morning they’d clung to each other for ten whole minutes on the doorstep, Aeris getting all teary-eyed. Even if she still hasn’t told him about Sephiroth, she always feels so protected when he’s around.

‘Anyway, could you – keep it to yourself?’ Aeris says. ‘The flower stuff. It’s private.’

‘Oh. Of course,’ Genesis says, touching a hand to his chest. ‘I will carry the secret to my grave.’

‘You don’t have to be so dramatic,’ Aeris says with a laugh. ‘I just – I’m not sure how good it is that you know so much about me.’

‘Well,’ he says. ‘Have I not opened myself up to you in return? And held onto your secrets with great care?’

‘Mmm,’ Aeris says with raised eyebrows. ‘I’d say you’ve done a bit more than just hold onto them.’

She cradles her umpteenth champagne flute against her bosom and looks at him perhaps a little too playfully. He locks gazes with her, a slow smile curling his mouth. Aeris suddenly realises what it is she’s brought up – she wasn’t supposed to talk about the goddamned love egg _now,_ of all times!  Gaia, what is she doing? She’s practically flirting with him – she has to remind herself that she isn’t actually here for him, and he’s _Gem’s_ , for Gaia’s sake. She knows how unprofessional it is to hustle someone else’s regular.

(But… she wasn’t hustling him. He was just being so lovely and… no. She has to focus.)

He seems on the verge of saying something so Aeris clears her throat.

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I should probably – I should tell my client I’m here.’

Genesis contemplates her for a moment, as though carefully tucking away what he’d been about to say. ‘Of course.’

‘There was one thing I wanted to ask you,’ Aeris says. After the easy flow of the conversation, it feels almost like her throat is stoppered up when bringing up Sephiroth. She frowns, tries to force it out; ‘I don’t feel very safe around this guy, so. Could you – ? Wait for me to finish and meet me after? The booking will only last an hour.’

All the playfulness immediately leaves Genesis’s expression.

‘Yes, of course.’ He nods at her. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be alright? Where are you going to go?’

Aeris smiles. ‘I was going to scout the place to see if there’s anywhere private. Otherwise I guess it’ll just have to be the loos, or a hotel near here – ’

‘No,’ Genesis says, looking aghast. ‘Not the toilets, please, don’t do that to yourself. If you want to go and take a look upstairs, I believe there’s a second cloakroom that should be large enough. The doors are next to the science fiction section. There’s going to be a reading soon, so you should be alright for interruptions.’ He smirks. ‘As long as you’re quiet.’

Aeris is smiling self-consciously again, unable to look at his face without being reminded of her fantasies. She needs to get out of there fast – but Gaia, she doesn’t want to go. Going means plunging back into all that stress and seeing _him_.

‘Thank you, Genesis,’ she says. ‘Really. It’s so nice of you.’

‘You might want to be careful if you’re going upstairs,’ he adds. ‘Sephiroth is here, too – he was up there last time I saw him.’

Aeris breathes out, eyes glazing over. She needs to get back in the zone – that slightly self-destructive anger, that impression of being able to withstand anything.

‘I’ll be back down in about an hour then,’ she says. ‘Don’t leave without me.’

Genesis lifts his champagne glass at her. ‘Good luck.’

 

•

 

The upper floor has the same kind of set-up as downstairs, except there are more couches and fat round beanbags. The glass walls allow for a moderately clear view of the streets around them. Aeris downs the last of her champagne, setting the glass down on a stand next to a stack of dictionaries. She doesn’t even have to scan the crowd for more than five seconds before she sees him.

He’s standing in front of the windows by himself, staring out at the city. He’s in a white shirt and black trousers, legs slightly apart, hands joint behind his back like he never left the battlefield. She looks at the way his hair falls down his back and loops messily over his shoulders, at the leather belt holding his trousers up.

She wants to run back downstairs so badly. Or maybe hit him hard across the face. With a chair. She can’t quite decide.

She takes her phone out of her bag, brings up his number that she took from the Bee log. First, she has to put herself somewhere that’ll suit the roleplay, right? She looks around the room for a minute, trying to decide whether to stand by that bookshelf or insert herself in a group of people. Then she thinks, well, she’s already making a huge effort by being here at all, isn’t she? She shouldn’t have to construct an elaborate scenario for him when all he wants to do is fuck her against a wall with a hand around her throat.

Grinding her teeth, she types _Here_ and sends it to him. Then she wanders over to a bookstand that’s close to the sci-fi bookshelves. She glances at the small black door that undoubtedly leads to the cloakroom, seeing a lock on it. She looks back towards the glass walls, sees Sephiroth sliding a hand in his pocket to retrieve his phone. Biting her lip, Aeris sets her coat down and picks up a book at random, pretending to read the blurb.

She can see him in the corner of her eye. He’s turning around. _Shit, shit, shit._ She keeps her head at an angle so she can see him approaching without looking directly at him. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them – she physically _can’t_ look at him. When he’s a few steps away, she bundles up her coat and heads for the cloakroom.

She opens the door a fraction, slips inside. Her legs have turned to cotton – she has to hold onto the door as she stands there. She breathes out slowly, looks around herself. There’s a rack of clothes on either side of the tiny room. The floor is carpet, and straight ahead is a window with a bench beneath it. Shoes are neatly lined up underneath the bench, boots and heels and sandals. The anticipation of what’s about to happen here is tainting every little detail of the room. She reaches for a coat hanger, wondering if the mixture of flowery perfumes and musty carpeting is going to add itself to her nightmares after this.

The door doesn’t make a sound as it swings open behind her. She stands there facing her chosen rack, her hands trembling as she tries to fit the hanger into the sleeve holes of her coat. She keeps missing, she’s shaking so hard. She hears the door click shut and her knees almost give out. His presence is taking up the whole left side of the room. She frowns, staring even harder at what she’s doing.

The door locks. She can smell that musk of his already, hear his steps muffled in the carpet. The faint _swish_ of his trousers as he walks behind her.

Two hands curl over her waist, hot and heavy. He pulls and she stumbles back against the solid wall of his body.

Okay. This is happening.

She drops her coat, struggles against his grip. The pleas for him to get off and go away come a little too naturally. He locks an arm around her stomach while the other hand travels up, sliding over her breasts. She wriggles until the hand closes over her throat. Her eyes fly open, her head tilting back against his shoulder automatically. She’s entirely trapped, unable to move.

She hears him breathing next to her ear. His fingers dig gently into the sides of her throat and already she feels faint. She grasps both of his wrists, trying to breathe as regularly as she can.

He waits a spell, perhaps enjoying how thoroughly trapped she is, or for her to say ‘red.’

Surprisingly she finds that it’s… tolerable for now. She looks hard at the wall. With every breath she feels her ribs strain against the steel cage of his arms.

The hand on her stomach starts travelling down. She swallows with difficulty, staring desperately ahead as he presses her skirt against the intimate outline of her crotch. Then he’s gliding underneath the hem, fingertips skimming across the bare skin of her thighs. He explores each garter, the tops of her stockings. She keeps her thighs pressed firmly together when his fingertips drift up. He skims the front of her underwear and she lets out a breath. Fear and excitement are skittering through her and she can’t tell whether she’s disgusted or aroused.

‘You made an effort,’ he purrs into her ear.

‘You’re not my only booking for the night,’ she bites out.

He chuckles softly. ‘Are you trying to bait me?’

He touches her more earnestly, one finger pressing the cotton between the lips of her sex. Her mind starts spinning. He rubs her through the cotton, slowly, almost tenderly. She says _no, don’t, please_ as expected of her character but the way he’s touching her – she wouldn’t have expected it to feel like this. Not-horrible. Not even… bad. Like she’s become far more aware of that build-up now that she knows what the climax feels like. Except she doesn’t want to feel like this because of him. He squeezes her neck harder then releases again rhythmically, never letting her get her breath back properly and she starts drifting. In minutes she can hardly keep her eyes open.

‘Red,’ she murmurs. ‘Your hand – on my neck.’

There’s a second of hesitation. This is the real test. This is where he betrays himself.

Miraculously, he does as he’s told. He releases her neck, his hand settling over her cleavage. She grasps the coats with a clink of plastic hangers, breathing hard. Then he seems to have found something more interesting than her neck – he slides one finger into her shirt collar, feeling the silky skin of her bosom. She gives a jerk of the shoulders, but he holds onto her easily. She can feel him growing hard against her backside but he’s not letting her go anywhere. He slides his whole hand down her cleavage, pushing down the lace of her bra, cupping her. His palm is hot against her nipple and she gives a strangled moan when his other hand furrows into her knickers. His fingertips glide between the slick lips of her vulva, toying with her mercilessly.

Lips against her ear, he says, ‘You’re enjoying this far too much.’

‘Only because I’m being paid to,’ she snarls.

He squeezes her nipple painfully hard and she yelps this time. So he bites her earlobe and hisses, ‘Shh.’

He toys with her for the next few minutes, being surprisingly gentle. She struggles a little but otherwise forces herself to relax against him. She needs to be as ready as possible for penetration if she wants it to hurt less than last time. Then without warning, perhaps because of how little she’s resisting – he withdraws, grabs her by the ponytail and _yanks_ downwards. She has to bite back the cry of pain. He’s pulling so hard that there’s no way to go but down. She drops to her knees. Then he places a boot on her shoulder and kicks her back. She catches herself, nails digging into the carpet, half-lying there with her head aching. Her skirt and knickers are all askew, her shirt gaping. She tries to pull down her clothes, looking up at him properly for the first time that evening. He kneels down beside her and her eyes climb up his body, the straining buttons of his shirt, his tight-lipped mouth, his eyes darkened with lust. He places a hand on her chest and presses her down flat against the floor, holding her there. She tries to fight it, tries to throw his hand off, but he’s far too strong. With his free hand he starts pulling her knickers down her thighs in sharp tugs, so she rocks her head back against the carpet, trying not to whimper. He must be able to feel her heart leaping against his palm.

Once he’s pulled her underwear past her knees his fingers travel over her stockings to the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She’s panting in earnest now. She looks straight at him when his fingertips linger near her entrance, like she could ward him off with a glare.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t make so much noise,’ he purrs.

She wants to hit him. ‘Maybe you should get out,’ she hisses through clenched teeth.

He smirks. Then he enters her and – oh. Oh, Gaia. She lets out a tortured whimper as he buries two fingers deep inside her, finding that sensitive spot straight away. The way her body’s responding… this can’t be right. He thrusts harder and her spine lights up like those goddamned faerie lights downstairs. She arches her back as he starts to finger-fuck her, letting out a string of helpless moans.

The hand on her chest moves up to cover her mouth.

By the time he decides to stop she can’t breathe, her hair is sticking to her face with the sweat, and her thighs are shaking. He’s watching her, his mouth slightly parted, hair falling past his shoulders as he leans over her. He releases her mouth and she draws in breath, lying there staring at him in a dazed stupor. She has no idea what she’s doing, what she’s meant to be feeling apart from intolerable amounts of pleasure. He cocks an eyebrow at her, his expression so goddamned smug. That’s enough to make her try to sit up – but he pushes her back down again. She hears a belt unbuckling as he kneels between her legs.

 Oh, Planet. This isn’t going well. When he’s touching her she can hardly remember why she’s here at all, what she’s meant to be doing. She feels for her necklace, clutching it through the shirt as he unzips. He’s looking at her hungrily, looming over her like a predator diving in for a feast. The whole room falls away as he takes up her field of vision, his huge body poised over her, inescapable.

Her mouth opens. She’s trying to say ‘red’ but her whole body is aching for more. She can feel herself throbbing down there, slick with arousal, waiting for something larger than his fingers to satisfy her. He shouldn’t be doing this to her – it’s fucking ridiculous that she’s even opening her thighs for him at all. She tries to focus on her necklace, keeping it at the forefront of her mind. Her eyes are strung to his, her mouth open, breathing while she still can.

She tilts her hips up to make it easier for him and he glides into her, stretching her obscenely and it’s. Much bigger than what she remembers and. Fuck. _Fuck._ She bites her lip. He sinks deeper and she throws her arms back to grab onto the bench legs just so she can hold onto _something._

He lowers himself onto his elbows, lining his body along hers. He smothers her mouth with one hand again and she looks at him pleadingly as she breathes through her nose. She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading him to do. Stop? Go faster? He’s turned his face to the side anyway, he’s not looking at her. She can hear his breaths becoming more erratic with each thrust of the hips, his eyes fluttering shut as she clenches around his cock.

Soon, a familiar lightness starts spreading in her belly. There’s a faerie-wing flutter along the underside of her thighs. She recognises what’s coming and somehow, _impossibly,_ with him inside her it builds so much faster. In this position his pelvis must be grinding against her clit at the perfect angle and she frowns as she concentrates on the sensation. It’s –possible like this? With _him_ inside her? No one has done this to her before, but she doesn’t care to explore it any further. This – she can’t give him this. No way.

She scrabbles at the hand on her mouth, raking her nails over his skin, moaning incoherently. He allows her to pull his fingers away and she says _red, red, red_ in a single rushed breath. He thrusts once more, glaring down at her like she can’t possibly be asking him to stop _now_. He thrusts a second time and she can feel herself dangerously close to the edge. She glares back at him.

‘RED, I said.’

‘I wondered when you’d start showing a little backbone,’ Sephiroth murmurs. ‘Look at you. You’re not even struggling.’

She doesn’t even think – she whacks him across the jaw.

His head snaps the side, and then he _smiles_ down at her, grabs her by the wrists and pins them above her head. She struggles against him, manages to tilt her legs to the side so he can’t grind against her. But from this angle he’s hitting entirely different spots and _Gaia._ She can’t help the cry that escapes her lips.

‘Be quiet,’ he murmurs, his own voice slightly choked.

She bites down on her arm and for a few minutes, she manages to keep it down. And then downstairs there’s the sound of growing applause – they’ve surely reached the end of the reading. The noise grows, with whoops and whistling. Aeris looks up at Sephiroth, sees something dangerous flash across those heavy-lidded eyes. He straightens up, pulls her hips up so that she has to arch her back up to meet him. Then he picks up speed, all but _pummeling_ her and she moans as she feels him hitting as deep as he can go. While the applause lasts she allows herself to scream and he doesn’t stop her. She’s going out of her mind. She would’ve thought that perhaps she’d zone out or think about someone else to get through with it – but with the way he’s filling her, it’s impossible to even think at all. She feels him crush his hips against her as he comes. He tilts his head, hair sliding silkily across her thighs. She instantly feels an overpowering urge to climb out from under him. Even if there’s little to no pain this time around, he’s the last person she wants to enjoy sex with.

He withdraws. As soon as she’s free she twists away, pulling herself up onto the bench so that she can sit down and catch her breath. She straightens her clothes, battling the urge to kick herself or cry or _something_. This set-up was completely stupid. There was no way she’d ever manage to complete the assignment with him being so completely overpowering and hyperaware of her every movement. She checks her watch; they’ve gone overtime by ten minutes. Yeah. One hour is definitely not long enough, either. She tries to think pragmatically. This was just practice; now she knows that one hour in a public place like this _definitely_ isn’t the right plan.

And… she knows that he actually does stop when he’s told. Or at least, when he decides to listen.

He hasn’t said a word since they broke apart. She looks up at him. He’s standing up, buckling his belt, his breathing still a little too pressed to be normal.   

‘Perhaps pick a place where you can scream, next time,’ he tells her casually.

She goes beet red. She can’t believe she allowed herself to give him that. But then again it wasn’t like she could’ve done otherwise unless he gagged her.

‘You want to see me again, then?’ she asks. She needs to tone down the snark if she’s going to hustle him for a second booking. But her whole body still feels all lit up like a goddamned Christmas tree so out of some idiotic reflex she adds, ‘Was this _suitable_ for you?’

He gives her a kind of careless glance as he pulls his belt through one last loop. ‘Marginally.’

She raises her eyebrows. Again there’s that desire to sit down just to be able to deal with what comes out of his goddamned mouth. But she’s already sitting. Maybe lying face-down on the floor is the next option.

He turns his back to her, heading for the door. He smooths his hair back. Then he takes an envelope from his bulging back pocket, and balances it on top of a couple of hung-up coats. 

‘I will organise the bank account later,’ he says. ‘Give me three weeks.’

‘OK.’

He slips out of the room without looking back at her.

 

•

 

She stays there for a while, fixing her make-up at first and then just sitting quietly. There’s something soothing about the idea that she can exist in this space without panicking. She looks at the shoes that she’s knocked askew, the coats that are half-off their coat hangers from where she pulled them too hard.

She can do this. She can sit here and reclaim this space as a neutral room. She isn’t crying and she isn’t having a fit.

She’s… ok.

Yeah.

 She’s wiping her thighs down when there’s a knock on the door. Her stomach lurches – she remembers just how loud she’d been screaming earlier. Planet, what if someone heard them? Or noticed how absent they both were? She scrambles to her feet, grabs her coat and goes to open the door whilst preparing a line in her head.

‘Sorry, I was having a bit of a – ’ Her eyes go wide at the sight of Genesis’s face. ‘ – oh.’

His shoulders are tilted, his whole posture slightly off-kilter like he’s even more drunk than before. Still, he manages to look concerned through the haze of alcohol.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks.

She nods. ‘Everything went fine. Sorry, I just had to fix my face.’

He steps aside to let her out. Thankfully there are significantly less people milling around; those who have stayed are slurring loudly at each other, sloshing alcohol around and dancing to the music. Aeris lets Genesis steer her towards the stairs, her legs still trembling slightly. She feels covered in the sticky imprint of Sephiroth’s touch – she must stink of his musky aftershave.

They make it downstairs. The bar staff are packing up, but there’s a group of girls passing each other their own bottles and laughing together at the counter. When they see Genesis approaching one of them lifts her whisky bottle at him like an invitation. Aeris looks at them – their arms and legs are bulky, dresses straining around prominent musculature. Their faces are slightly weathered under the make-up, and one of them has tattoos running down her arms – Wutain symbols and a long winding Leviathan. Aeris is reminded of Zack’s Soldier friends, the gruff girls who could never really hide the grit of their day-to-day lives under glamorous evening wear.

Genesis glances down at Aeris. ‘Something tells me you need a stiff drink.’

Aeris has the energy to smile. The idea of fraternizing with Upperworld girls sounds far more comforting than the prospect of going down alone and lying in bed without anything else to think about than the booking. ‘You know what, yeah, I think I could do with one.’

‘I thought so,’ Genesis says. Then he turns to face her, blocking the way to the girls. ‘Considering who your client was.’

Aeris blinks.

‘What?’

Genesis cocks an impeccably plucked eyebrow. ‘He walked out of here exactly an hour after you went upstairs. And he usually hates parties like this. I may be blessed with extraordinary intelligence but it really doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.’

Aeris looks down at empty space, eyes flicking from side to side.

‘Not to mention there’s a specific cocktail of sweat and entitlement that can only be traced back to a select handful of men I know,’ Genesis adds.

Aeris grimaces. ‘Do I smell that much?’

‘You’re fine,’ Genesis assures her. ‘Soldiers have enhanced senses, remember.’

Oh, Gaia.

‘Does the enhancement involve… _all_ of your senses?’ Aeris asks.

Genesis just smiles crookedly at her. ‘Darling,’ he says. ‘I’m surprised there weren’t other people who turned their heads when the applause started. You sounded like you were having a _very_ good time.’

By the time he’s finished talking Aeris is hiding her bright red face in her hands. ‘Crisis, I should’ve known.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he insists. ‘I thought I told you to ring me when he expressed interest.’

‘I guess I…’ Aeris shakes her head, reaching for the most unsuspicious of answers. ‘I could hardly justify it to myself. That I accepted to see him at all.’

 ‘What made you change your mind?’ he asks, softer this time.

‘He was paying good money. And I knew you’d be there,’ she says. She looks up at him to press the flattery – she has an inkling that he’d be the type to appreciate praise. Sure enough, he takes on the disaffected air of those who won’t admit that their ego has been thoroughly stroked. Then he turns around again.

‘Hmph. We’ll talk about this later.’

Genesis walks towards the girls and Aeris tentatively follows. When they reach the group the three women cheer loudly at their Commander. He tells them he has a friend in urgent need of resupplying, and the women all look at Aeris who is significantly shorter and skinnier than the lot of them. A year ago she would’ve been intimidated by women like this, but now she only smiles, feeling a sort of tribalistic pull as they welcome her in their midst without question. Two of them push shot glasses of whisky at her and she laughs, taking both and trying not to spill.

The girls are a wild ride. There are two Second Class Soldiers, Jade and Julie, and the one with tattoos is still in training – she tells Aeris to call her Max. The Seconds are a couple, though they keep making comments to suggest that their relationship is open. Aeris falls into their light-hearted banter easily, almost desperately. She needs to feel herself, she needs to feel normal, and this is perfect for that.

At one point the staff begin to usher people out, so Genesis suggests to move the after-party somewhere more appropriate. And just like that, Aeris is walking across the shiny cobblestones of the Upperworld, tipsy and laughing and being flirted with by two gorgeous burly Soldier girls and she can’t remember a time where she felt so carefree. It’s intoxicating. She doesn’t check the time – that reckless part of her that she awoke to be able to deal with Sephiroth has apparently taken over, because she doesn’t care. She needs the distraction.

They pick up a pretty blond man along the way whom Genesis seems to know, and sooner than expected they find themselves following the line of streetlights leading to an all-too-familiar building. Aeris looks up at the luxurious apartment complex, her gaze immediately attracted to the penthouse flat. She wonders if he’s up there now. Her heart starts pounding harder but one look at the crown of Genesis’s head and the anxiety stays at a reasonable level. She doesn’t want to be afraid any more. She jogs to catch up with the redhead, walking at the front of their little group with him.

Once in the corridor outside of Genesis’s flat, Aeris remembers quite suddenly that this is Hegemony’s territory. Her curiosity rages as Genesis leads them all inside. She’s looking around, trying to imagine her friend moving within this space. The living room is much cozier than Sephiroth’s – it’s not even comparable, it looks _lived in_ whereas everything about Sephiroth’s flat screamed soulless ready-made home picked out of a catalogue. There are two tired-looking red couches around a coffee table that’s covered in books and dirty mugs and beer bottles. Genesis goes straight for the open-plan kitchen, banging out more alcohol to the gleeful shouts of his friends. Over in the corner is an open door that leads to what looks like a library or an office. Aeris leans against the back of a sofa and looks at the blood-stained banners that scroll down from the ceiling, framing a particular door which must be the bedroom. She imagines Sephiroth having a fit at the idea of keeping bloodied, unclean fabrics on display, and wonders just how realistic the fantasy of trashing his flat would be.

The girls manage to pull her out of her train of thought. There’s drinking and card games that are not politically correct at all, and then Max starts taunting Genesis about Loveless and saying she bets the most expensive vodka on the table that he can’t reel the poetry out whilst drunk. So Genesis stands up on the coffee table, knocking over glasses full of alcohol and making the others shout in protest, claiming the space as his own sticky little stage. Aeris watches, rosy-cheeked and grinning stupidly as he lowers his shoulders, falling into character with surprising grace. He lifts a long slender arm and she’s trying her hardest to ignore the heat pooling in her belly at the sight of him.

‘There is no hate,’ he baritones, and everyone shuts up. Then, with a dramatic drop of pitch; ‘Only joy.’ He turns on one foot slowly – slips – catches himself in a tinkle of glass, the girls laughing at his clumsiness. His gaze searches for something to fix itself on, and he stares straight at Aeris, blue eyes heavy-lidded.

‘For you are beloved by the Goddess,’ he purrs.

Aeris bites her lip.

‘Who _is_ the goddamned Goddess, anyway?’ sneers Max from beside Aeris, bumping into the smaller girl’s shoulder.

‘Yeah, the whole damn poem makes no sense,’ shouts Jade. ‘She isn’t from any of the old pantheons we know about.’

‘You fools!’ drawls Julie in an imitation of Genesis. ‘You’re all too ignorant to understand. It’s a _metaphor_.’

‘A _metaphooooor_!’ the others echo in silly deep voices, jeering and laughing, and for a moment Genesis looks a bit lonely up there on his makeshift stage. So Aeris clutches her glass of pink liquor between her thighs and pipes up;

‘Actually, there is one culture that worshipped a single female entity. Even though they rarely anthropomorphized her.’

There’s a bit of a hush. The Soldier girls stare at her, and the pretty blond guy who’s reclining in an armchair with his thighs wide open says, ‘You can’t be drunk if you managed to say all that in one go.’

‘Hey, I can say that,’ Jade says. ‘What was it? Amf – anthropop – anthropomopfffffff,’ and she’s off laughing again, hunching over and slapping her girlfriend’s thigh. Aeris would’ve smiled at them if Genesis hadn’t been staring steadily at her.

‘Tell it to these ignorant swines, Chimera,’ he says with a proud tilt of the chin.

It’s a validation Aeris never knew she needed. She tries to word it properly in her head, not even caring if the others think she’s being swotty when Genesis is looking at her like _that_.

‘The Cetra believed that the Planet was their mother,’ she says. ‘I don’t know much about what influenced the creation of the Loveless play, but if they’re talking about a single female deity then technically it _could_ be a personification of the Planet.’

‘You’re not drunk at all, are you?’ the blond says. ‘Someone get this girl more booze!’

‘So you let civilian girls fight your battles for you now, Gen?’ Jade calls up at the poet, poking him in the leg while Max generously tops up Aeris’s drink.

Genesis doesn’t seem to care for his entourage. He’s staring at Aeris as though having found the only dregs of sense in the whole room. He steps down from the coffee table as regally as he can, stands in front of Aeris, then bows at the waist. He scoops her hand up and raises it to his lips.

‘A woman versed in the mythology of Loveless is a woman after my own heart,’ he says. She feels each word on the back of her hand, the way his breath caresses her skin. When he kisses her hand she’s pretty sure her cheeks are going to melt off. The others whoop and cheer while Max bats him away from Aeris playfully.

Things heat up from there. There are more games, more thighs brushing, more oversharing on everyone’s part. Aeris learns far more than she needs to know about all of their sex lives – then the two Seconds are sitting at either side of her and she’s pretty sure she’s interpreting their signals clearly. But then their game of ‘Never have I ever’ takes a darker turn than she’d expected, and from playful sexual banter they’ve toppled into exchanging war stories. The tone simmers down, and Aeris finds herself watching the Soldiers as they recount crises and try to match each other’s records of physical performance.

‘Never have I ever… hung from a rope ladder over a burning town.’

‘Isn’t that like a rite of passage by now?’ Four out of five of them drink.

‘Never have I ever incapacitated a roomful of armed Wutains with naught but my bare hands and a telephone cord.’

Genesis snorts at that as he takes a drink. ‘Reminds me of my sweet sixteens.’

It’s Aeris’s turn. ‘Never have I ever… ’ She grins. ‘… punched Sephiroth in the face?’

The girls all stare at her as she fiddles with her glass. There’s a deathly silence. She takes a sip of her drink, hoping to appear casual, her lips dragging the liquid audibly. Then the Seconds explode:

‘You _what?’_

‘Do you have a death wish or something?’

‘Scratch that - how are you even still _alive_?’

The blond guy is laughing and saying ‘I like this one’ but Aeris hardly hears him as the girls are all egging her for details. Genesis is looking away, shaking his head though she can spy a grin under the tousled red hair. Then he reaches out his own drink to clink it against Aeris’s before shooting it back, and everyone starts roaring at him instead.

‘The guy’s an asshole. These things happen,’ Genesis explains laconically. ‘Subject closed, ladies. Jade, it’s your turn.’

‘Alright, alright.’ They’re quick to stop the questions – Aeris wonders if the habit of obeying their Commander never truly goes away even in a social context like this. ‘Never have I ever… had to break out of a Wutain locked-down facility with my hands cuffed in cable ties – _and_ dragging a broken leg,’ says Jade proudly.

The others shake their heads.

‘Way too specific, man,’ complains Max.

‘We agreed that it counts if you’ve got _approximately_ the same experience,’ Jade reminds her.

Aeris looks over at Genesis, who’s lifting his glass to his lips again. He’s drank for practically everything.

‘Ooh, story time,’ says Julie with a grin. Genesis only looks at her through his red spikes of hair, like the story is a little too dark to fit the mood. Aeris is struck by vivid images of him in full armour, dragging himself across some hellish maze of flickering corridors.

‘I thought the First Class never got caught,’ Aeris says.

Genesis winces as the alcohol goes down, then leans forwards to slam his glass back on the table and refill. 

‘We’re only human,’ Genesis says. ‘Somewhere under all the Mako.’

‘Hopefully,’ adds Jade.

‘Mm, speaking of which,’ purrs the blond from the depths of his armchair. He pats his leather jacket, as though indicating hidden goods. Aeris hears a clink of glass.

Genesis straightens up, looking a little worried while the Seconds make approving sounds.

‘We have a guest,’ the Commander says. ‘Let’s not make it that kind of night.’

The attention is immediately switched over to whatever goods the blond is holding. Max mentions being able to ‘babysit’ Aeris if the others want to make the most of it. Aeris is looking at Genesis in genuine confusion; he can’t seem to meet her eye.

Max is sitting at Aeris’s feet, so Aeris leans forwards and asks her, ‘What are they talking about?’

She keeps an eye on the black case that the blond is taking out from his jacket pocket while Max replies:

‘He’s brought hyper-concentrated Mako syringes. If you’ve had Mako treatment, you can experiment with high dosages and the effects it has on the body. Regular people do it too, though you’re much more susceptible to Mako poisoning if you haven’t had treatment.’

Aeris watches as the case is opened, revealing twelve glowing green vials and syringe kits. The Mako is glowing almost white, and she can feel the potency of it from across the room. She can hear something, too – ever since he opened the case, there’s been a kind of faint, high-pitched song, just loud enough to ring uncomfortably in her ears.

‘Doesn’t sound like a very respectful thing to do,’ Aeris mutters.

Genesis glances over at her. ‘Like I said, no one’s going to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. This is my flat. I won’t let it happen.’

‘I wasn’t talking about me,’ Aeris says. ‘As someone who is interested in Gaia theory and the Lifestream, I’m surprised you’d be interested in doing something like this.’

Max glances up at her quizzically. ‘What are _you_ talking about?’

Genesis’s eyes glow with understanding. ‘She means the theory that the Lifestream contains the souls of the dead as well as your usual biologically quantifiable elements.’

 ‘You guys need to quit it with the academic talk,’ the blond guy speaks up from the little circle he’s formed with the Seconds.

Genesis ignores him.

‘It’s a difficult belief to live with,’ Genesis says. ‘I understand that. If you start worrying about disrespecting the dead, then every exhaust pipe and every light switch becomes offensive to look at. But if anything, I would say that this is a more respectful way to use Mako than most.’

Aeris tilts her head. ‘You think getting high on other people’s souls is respectful?’

Genesis smirks at her word choice. ‘Wouldn’t you rather merge with another human being than be burnt up in a car engine? Or used up in a pair of AA batteries?’

Aeris goes red as her mind immediately jumps to the pair of batteries that are currently nestled in Genesis’s gift. The mood of the room is too drenched in informality and sex for her to stay properly outraged, so she smirks right back at him. 

‘I guess it depends on what the batteries are powering,’ she says.

Genesis takes a second to understand what she means, and then realization dawns on his face. His smile turns scandalous, and Aeris doesn’t even hear the two Seconds confirm her point with less subtle word usage. She grips her dress, struggling to find a way out of the corner she’s pushed herself into. (The best way out would be to climb onto Genesis’s lap and kiss the living daylights out of him, but there’s no way she can do that with all these goddamned _people_ around.)

‘So what – what does it feel like?’ she asks instead.

‘Everything becomes one hundred percent more interesting,’ laughs Jade.

‘I already told you that Soldiers have enhanced senses,’ Genesis purrs. ‘But with the right Mako dosage, you can crank it up so much that you feel the texture of the air itself.’

Aeris hears the subtext loud and clear. She’s curious enough to see what kind of effect the Mako might have – perhaps as an idea for her next booking with Sephiroth – but there’s one thing she’s definitely not ready for.

‘This isn’t going to turn into an orgy, is it?’ she asks quietly.

The Seconds laugh fondly at her, and Max rubs her knee. ‘Don’t worry,’ Max says, ‘I’ll fend them off.’

‘If it does, it’ll be confined to my bedroom,’ Genesis says. ‘You two can have the flat to yourselves. But we’re perfectly happy to put the drugs away and stick to the alcohol, Chimera.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ the blond says.

Aeris wrings her hands in her lap. ‘It’s fine, go ahead,’ she finally says. ‘I’ll be fine, I’m getting a bit tired anyway.’

The Seconds blow kisses at her in thanks, and then Max gets up, offering to lead Aeris away to the library while they ‘shoot up’. Endlessly intrigued, Aeris follows Max to the door, glancing over her shoulder. The little group roll up their sleeves, take out thick elastic bands and wind them tightly around their upper arms. She stands by the door, unable to wrench her eyes away from the sight of Genesis putting together his needle like he’s done it all his life. She imagines him sat in a medical tent in deep Wutain jungle, washing the blood off his forearms before preparing his equipment himself. They’re all sitting on the edges of their seats, leaning in a tight circle around the coffee table. Genesis holds up his syringe like he’s raising a toast to the others, and they laugh. Then he points the needle toward the crook of his elbow. Aeris winces, keeping her eyes on Genesis’s face as the needle goes in. He closes his eyes as the Mako flows into his system, and then he tilts his head back slowly, falling back into the couch. His lips unstick, his mouth parting as he lets out a deep sigh. The others relax too, but Aeris is entranced by Genesis’s expression. Whatever this stuff is doing to him, it definitely looks like he’s enjoying it.

After a few seconds he laughs softly and asks, ‘Where the hell did you find this stuff?’ and the blond starts talking about a place in the slums. Aeris watches how Genesis puts away the needle slowly, fingers lingering on everything he touches like he’s feeling the textures. The Seconds are sliding their hands over each other’s thighs and giggling, and Aeris thinks she should really leave them to it now. But – there are heavy gazes exchanged, Genesis leaning closer to the blond.

‘Anyone else would think that you’re backing me into this again,’ the redhead murmurs.

‘I’ve fought alongside you, sir. Nobody backs you into anything.’

‘Then is it a self-confidence issue? You do know I’d fuck you whether I was high or not, right?

‘I don’t know. Would you?’

Aeris bites her lip, heat writhing in her lower belly as Genesis smiles, climbs right ontop of the guy and kisses him full on the mouth. He finds the guy’s bun and pulls out the hair tie so that his pale blond hair gushes down between them. Aeris’s heart pounds heavily at the momentary resemblance to Sephiroth.

‘Don’t, it gets everywhere,’ the blond protests, but Genesis holds onto his wrists in a vice-grip.

‘Keep it down,’ he says.

Max pulls at her arm a little, and Aeris snaps out of her trance, looking around at her ‘babysitter’. She’s wearing a knowing grin.

‘You can probably still join in if you’ve changed your mind,’ she says.

‘No,’ Aeris stammers. ‘No, it’s fine. I’m all good.’

 

•

 

 There are noises – something breaking, the echo of someone shouting. Aeris blinks blearily, waking up after what barely feels like five minutes of sleep. She’s tucked in the reading niche of the library, a fluffy cover over her legs, Genesis’s prized goat-skin almanac open on her thighs. She frowns, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she looks out the window. The glass skyscrapers outside still reflect the starry sky, though there are beginnings of a pastel-pink dawn. Max is gone – she remembers telling her that she’d be fine, there was a lock on the library door and she didn’t much feel like going anywhere even after everyone retreated to the bedroom. There are _so many books_ about worldly places and materia here, after all.

She closes the book, puts it aside. Listens harder to try and see what woke her up.

‘… all you do is pretend, pretend that you give a shit about us – but he isn’t _here_ , he doesn’t _want you –_ why can’t you appreciate what you have here, now _–_ ’

The voice sounds like the blond. Aeris frowns. There is a deep, calm voice responding to him – Genesis, surely, but the blond’s back to shouting right afterwards.

‘All we are to you is one distraction after the other and I’m fucking sick of it.’

‘Look, could you at least keep it _down –_ ’

‘Oh, you’re afraid he’ll hear? That’s alright, he probably already heard you about ten minutes ago, when you screamed his _fucking name –_ ’

‘I’m telling you, you misheard. I had my face in the pillows, I wasn’t saying anything coherent. And I was talking about my guest, she’s trying to sleep.’

‘Well, I hope your guest knows that you’re just going to use her and then throw her away, like the rest of us who _aren’t him – ’_

‘You’d better go home.’

‘No, goddamnit, I want – I _want –_  ’

There’s a scuffle, the sound of furniture moving. Lowered voices, something that sounds like sobbing. Aeris has put a hand over her mouth without realizing it. Eventually the front door slams, and then silence settles again. Groggy and confused, Aeris steps down from the niche and makes her way over to the door, opening it a fraction.

The living room is empty. She contemplates the aftermath of the party – bottles everywhere, wet patches of spilled drink, scattered cards and pillows. She pads over to the open-plan kitchen, finding Genesis there leaning against the counter with his back to her. He’s topless, his hair disheveled. There are red nail marks all over his back and love bites on his neck and shoulders, his body a veritable battleground.

Aeris comes closer, notices he’s wearing tracksuit bottoms. Odd choice for someone who’s always dressed up to look like the perfect social butterfly. He turns his head to acknowledge her with a sigh.

‘Sorry we woke you,’ he says gruffly.

‘Are the girls gone, too?’ Aeris asks.

‘Yeah.’

She’s not quite sure how to open a dialogue after that outburst. Especially as she’s burning with curiosity regarding who that ‘he’ could be. He certainly doesn’t seem to be in the right mindset to talk about it, though.

‘I found your almanac,’ she says tentatively.

‘Ahh.’ He nods slowly at her, like it’s taking all his energy to force his face to put on appropriate expressions. His eyes are glowing almost white with the Mako – she can barely see his pupils. ‘So what did you think?’

‘It’s beautiful. The plant drawings, especially. There are species that I’ve never seen before in any magazine or encyclopedia.’

‘Some places of the world are too hostile for anyone to think of going there to catalogue the flora,’ Genesis says, pushing himself away from the counter. ‘I recognized quite a few rare species I came across in my travels, whose properties I’d never heard of before finding that book. I can show you, if you like.’

‘Oh, could I – just grab a drink first?’ Aeris asks. ‘I can already feel a hangover coming.’

Genesis goes to the fridge, opens the door and gestures towards the neat line of colourful bottles in the door.

‘Take your pick.’

She steps forwards, then sees a bottle that makes her heart skip a beat. ‘You have apricot!’ Her eyes are stuck to the label as she takes it and unscrews it gleefully. ‘My mum used to buy some from an old grocer’s when I was little,’ she explains. ‘But he died and the business went with him. Nowadays it’s impossible to find anything that isn’t watered down to nothing.’

Genesis is wearing a small smile as he watches her.

‘You get recruited for Upworld bookings often enough now,’ he says. ‘Surely you’re at liberty to stock up on the unwatered kind?’

‘I – guess I never really thought about it,’ Aeris says. ‘You get used to living according to what’s available, rather than trying to fight for what you want.’

He tilts his head at that, as though wondering whether or not to agree. Then he heads out of the kitchen, nodding at her in an invitation for her to follow. ‘You can drink from the bottle,’ he tells her. ‘I think all the glasses are in the wash.’

She does as he says, taking a swig. Whilst following him into the library, she notices how he’s discreetly clutching his side, like he’s got a stitch.

‘You alright?’ she asks after licking the thick pulpy line of juice from her lip.  

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he mutters, his hand falling away.

‘Did that guy hurt you – ?’

‘No, no,’ Genesis sighs. ‘It… comes and goes. Don’t worry.’

‘Is it because of the Mako, then?’

 ‘I’m not sure what’s causing it yet. My physician says it’s probably just stress.’

‘Well you don’t exactly choose the most stress-free of activities,’ Aeris says with a smile, and he smirks back at her.

‘Look who’s talking.’

He sits in the reading niche, sliding over to press his side against the window so that she has space to slot in beside him. Grinning nervously, Aeris puts the juice bottle at the foot of the niche and climbs up, kneeling next to him so that not a single part of their bodies are touching. While she busies herself with covering their legs in the fluffy blanket, he picks up the heavy almanac, fingers tracing the bumps in the goat-skin spine. It’s oddly quiet now that no one’s here – she feels like she’s stepped into his intimacy, like she’s seeing far more of him than the people he dragged into his bedroom.

He takes her through pages and pages of beautifully drawn Wutain flora, tracing the delicate ink lines with his fingertips. When she asks about the region each flower is from, he talks to her about villages that no longer exist, of burned-down forests and spoilt rivers. He’s far from the cheery party-persona he was displaying all evening; his words are low and heavy with memories, his eyes hooded as he keeps them down on the yellowed pages. She wonders for a moment what someone like him might think of Avalanche’s agenda. If he even supports the war effort when he looks so apologetic, sitting there reminiscing about the places he’s helped wipe off the map.

After a while, Aeris finds herself curled up against the cushions next to him, basking in the squishy softness and the shared body heat beneath the blanket. She’s so tired that her eyes keep drifting shut even as she listens to him and contributes to the exchange. Her knee is pressing lightly against his leg, and she doesn’t notice it until she shifts and he winces in pain. Immediately she draws back, apologizing while he reaches under the blanket to massage his leg.

‘It’s honestly nothing,’ he says. ‘The Mako just makes everything so much sharper.’

‘Maybe you overexerted yourself tonight,’ Aeris says to lighten the mood, and he gives her a shit-eating grin, finally looking like himself again.

‘I assure you, in normal circumstances I have _extraordinary_ stamina.’

‘And in your free time, you enjoy reverting back to being a fragile old man?’

Outrage flits across his face, and he digs a finger into her side as petty vengeance. She squirms away, giggling. The book falls open across their laps, and Genesis is quick to grab it before the pages can get folded.

‘I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourself,’ he says in a more serious tone. ‘I’m sure you understand how detrimental it can be for a Soldier’s reputation, for their chronic pain to become public knowledge.’

‘You mean you’re giving me a secret to hold onto?’ says Aeris. ‘Finally. We’re one step closer to being even.’

Genesis looks at her with a flat expression. ‘I’m not sure it’d have the same consequences if I told the world about your illicit flower garden.’

‘My garden is hardly the most dangerous thing you know about me. Which is why this is still lopsided.’

He hums thoughtfully, then reclines against the pillows, fiddling with a loose corner of the goat-skin. ‘Speaking of which. Let’s talk about the booking while we’re both still moderately drunk.’

Aeris pats down the cover, eyes glazing over. The remaining alcohol in her system makes it easier to bring up the subject.

‘I told you,’ she says. ‘It was fine.’

Genesis looks at her. ‘You do understand that I’ve been friends with that man since we were fifteen. Goddess, that makes… twelve years, now. So forgive me if I’m a little suspicious of anyone labelling an interaction with him as _fine_.’

‘What do you want me to say? He did his thing and didn’t get his pants in a twist about wanting it this time.’

Genesis snorts. ‘Aeris.’

‘ _What?’_

‘Just – walk me through it. So I can make sure this arrangement is tiptoeing its way towards something healthy.’

Aeris huffs through her nose, so he adds ‘healthi _er_ ’ to pacify her. She looks at him – he’s turned a little to face her, fingers still playing over the soft white leather of the almanac. She wonders for a moment if he’s still high and appreciating the textures.

‘I gave him a list of things he couldn’t do,’ Aeris starts.

Genesis narrows his eyes. ‘And it _worked_?’

‘Apparently, yes,’ Aeris says. ‘Gaia knows how I managed to make him do anything for me.’

‘Infinite in mystery are the workings of that man’s mind,’ Genesis intones. His usual dramatic tone is brought down a notch by exhaustion and all the substances that must be doing a giddy dance in his veins. ‘So what did you allow him to do?’

Aeris stares down at his long fingers as she tries to piece together her initial plan. It’s becoming very difficult to string two coherent sentences together when she’s tired and drunk and he’s _bare chested_ next to her and smelling of sex, Gaia have mercy.  

‘I wasn’t sure what to expect, at first,’ she says slowly. ‘Well, I mean – I thought I knew what to expect. But he came in and just – grabbed me, and started touching me almost _gently_ , like he’d gone and read some articles about how a woman’s body worked or something.’

Genesis snorts at that, but he waits for her to go on instead of piping up.

‘He apparently appreciated my lingerie, too,’ she says. ‘I didn’t think he even had a taste for that.’

‘The stockings are a very nice touch,’ Genesis says innocently enough. Immediately Aeris checks to see if her stockings are on show, but the blanket is still folded around her legs. She smiles, belly clenching at the implication that he’d been looking earlier that night.

‘I _have_ amassed a pretty nice collection by now,’ she says.

‘I’m sure you have,’ Genesis purrs.

Gaia, he really needs to stop talking like that.

‘So what did he do?’ he encourages her when she’s too lost for words to speak.

‘There was some… struggling,’ she says. ‘Hair-pulling, groping, that sort of stuff. Choking, too. I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle any more of that since last time, but he… regulated it this time. Did it properly, I guess, if there’s a proper way to choke someone.’

‘Recreational choking is an art,’ Genesis says in that low, husky voice of his. ‘If he did it properly, then he will have refrained from constricting the larynx. Just the carotids on either side. Stopping the blood flow to the brain induces an altered state of consciousness in a far more elegant and comfortable way than making the person cough and wheeze for breath.’

Aeris can’t take her eyes off his face, wondering if he’s getting off on imagining her – or imagining Sephiroth.

‘Yeah. That’s what he did this time. I think.’

‘Mmm.’ He holds out an hand near her throat, fingers spreading lightly over her skin, clearly inviting her to lean into his touch. So she does. His fingers close over her throat, hot and heavy. He finds the right grip in seconds, like he does this ‘recreational choking _’_ stuff all the time.

‘Like this?’ he asks as his fingers tighten. The effect is almost immediate – Aeris’s head feels heavier, almost too full, a tingling pressure building behind her eyes. She closes them, still smiling stupidly.

‘Yeah,’ she breathes through the constriction. ‘Exactly like that.’

‘Interesting,’ Genesis purrs. Then he releases her and takes one of her wrists. Guides it to his own neck. They’re face-to-face and Aeris has a hand around his throat, feeling the warm soft skin and the steady thrum of his pulse just under his jaw. His eyes are strung to hers and she’s far too drunk and turned on to think about moving away. ‘Squeeze only the sides,’ he tells her, hand closing over hers to guide her. So she does, perhaps a little too hard under his guidance, and she bites her lip at the sight of him closing his eyes and enjoying the effects.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apply this,’ she stammers with a shy smile. ‘You know I tend to be on the receiving end.’

He looks at her again. Their bodies are so close that she feels like they’ve stepped into one of her fantasies.

‘Depends who’s booking you,’ he purrs.

Gaia, is he really going where she thinks he’s going? He must still be high. She can’t indulge in this if he’s high – but _Gaia_ , it’s difficult not to lean in and close the distance.

‘Genesis, are you – ? Are you asking for a booking?’ she mutters.

He contemplates her for a moment, then guides her hand back down, placing it on the cushions as though to stop himself from holding onto it.

‘When I’ve taken Mako I tend to get a little… tactile,’ he says. ‘As you may have noticed. I apologize. I don’t mean to make things awkward for you.’

‘Genesis.’ Without thinking, Aeris threads her fingers through his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps she shouldn’t talk when alcohol makes her so brutally honest, but it comes out before she can stop it; ‘You don’t need to book me.’

He looks at her quizzically and she feels like she’s about to combust.

‘What do you mean?’ he asks.

Good question. She has no idea where she was going with that apart from, _please pin me down in these pillows and give me that orgasm I’ve been denying myself since the party._

‘The – casual arrangement you have, with those friends of yours,’ she hears herself saying. ‘The one-time deal kind of thing. I wouldn’t mind. Something like that.’

Genesis smiles at her. ‘Darling. You’re still drunk, and let’s not even talk about me.’

Aeris laughs. ‘We’re both very un-sobre, I know.’

He’s looking fixedly at her mouth, now.

‘Why didn’t you join in earlier?’ he murmurs.

Gaia, she’s in so much trouble.

‘Maybe I wasn’t interested in the others,’ she chides him.

She’s fully expecting to be turned down. But it’s been a few seconds and he’s still not said anything. And then – he leans in. _Shit._ Is he really – ? Her breath comes in uneven gasps as he hesitates on the brim of her lips, almost nuzzling her, nudging the cold tip of his nose against hers. All thought is erased from her mind other than the hesitation of being the first to catch the other. She can hear him breathing, smell the sex that’s radiating off him. Then he cups her face, pulling her towards him. His lips slide over hers, teeth gripping her lower lip, and then he fills her mouth with his tongue and the hot contact of it sends a delicious shiver down her spine.

He’s. Very good with his tongue. And he tastes so sweet. And he’s _Genesis Rhapsodos_ and –

‘Please pull me off you,’ he breathes against her mouth.

‘Why?’ she asks dizzily.

‘I'm not - doing this for the right reasons. And you’re taken. Aren’t you?’

She’s clinging onto his wrists and the wet slopes of his lips are still against hers, waiting, lingering. It’s the first time her fake relationship with Zack has felt like an obstacle – but – there’s something else, too. Something she’s been forgetting about. Gaia, she’s been a horrible, horrible friend.

 ‘You’re taken, too,’ she says.

‘No I’m not,’ Genesis murmurs. He rakes his fingers through her hair, slides his leg between her thighs under the blanket and she can’t breathe from how much she wants him.

‘Hegemony,’ Aeris says.

Genesis nips at her earlobe, sending icy shivers down her body. ‘That was a paid arrangement,’ he murmurs.

He’s using past tense. Aeris is too tipsy and desperately turned on to feel the full impact of the guilt, but it’s still there.

‘You mean it’s over?’ she asks.

‘I believe it’s run its course, yes,’ he says, before placing a hot open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

She fumbles for some way to help her friend, her thoughts tangled up in lust. ‘If you reconsider, I’ll allow you one more kiss.’

She feels him smile against her neck. ‘Interesting way to help fix someone else’s relationship,’ he says. Then he straightens up, brushes her hair out of her face, heavily-lidded eyes fixed on her mouth.  He leans in for another kiss, but she presses a finger against his lips.

‘Promise me you’ll reconsider.’

Glowing Mako eyes burn into hers. Then he sucks her finger into his mouth. His tongue curls around her, hot and wet and soft and his teeth graze her knuckles and Crisis, she’s sure she could come from him doing that for long enough. 

Then he releases her, gives her fingertip a chaste kiss and says, ‘I promise.’

She smiles, and tilts her chin up so that he can catch her lips again.

 

•

 

‘Aeris. _Aeris_.’

Eyes unstick from the crust of sleep. Aeris takes a few seconds to realise how her body is arranged – she’s curled up against Genesis’s naked chest, her head just beneath his chin, legs tangled between his under the duvet. The morning light is assaulting her eyes, and she realises that an alarm is going off somewhere in the flat.

With a jolt she pushes herself up, looking down at herself. Her clothes are still on. She looks at Genesis in complete confusion, who’s raking his hair out of his puffy eyes.

‘What did we – ? Oh Crisis, I’m sorry – ’

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. We both crashed pretty fast,’ he assures her. ‘You need to move though, so I can go and hurl that alarm out of a window.’

There’s a confused shuffling, Aeris standing in her rumpled dress in the middle of the library while Genesis marches away to the bedroom. She heads into the living room to locate her things, trying to ignore the pounding headache in her temples.

The alarm stops. It’s an abrupt silence, rather than the kind of decrescendo you’d get if you chucked an alarm clock from a fifty-storey building. Aeris decides that he must’ve clicked the button like a civilized person. When Genesis emerges, he’s straightening a vest top he just pulled on and sighing like someone with a very long day ahead of him.

‘You should go,’ he says. ‘Sephiroth will be swinging by here in about fifteen minutes.’

Aeris gathers her bag and coat, mind swimming in a muck of pain and half-formed memories of the night before. She slings her bag onto her shoulder, absently patting down her hair as she makes for the front door.

Genesis joins her in the entrance and they stand there awkwardly for a moment. She isn’t even sure if she really kissed him or if she dreamed it, seeing how he seems to be making a complete non-event of it.

‘Well, uh,’ Aeris stammers, ‘thank you for a… nice… evening?’

Genesis smiles at her. Holds out a hand. She takes it and he squeezes her fingers.

‘You should know, I don’t necessarily follow up on anything that happens during those kinds of parties,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done any Mako with you there.’

Well. At least he’s up front about it. Aeris nods. ‘You made it pretty clear before,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t expecting anything. And I don’t even think I have time for an unpaid relationship, anyway.’

She ends on a laugh, hoping that he won’t see right through her light-heartedness. He brings her hand to his lips, gives it a small kiss before letting her go. Then he opens the front door for her in a clear indication that she should leave.

‘Next time, call me when he decides to book you,’ he tells her. ‘So we can organise ourselves a little better.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

He’s still clutching his side, apparently not noticing that that’s where his hand automatically goes.

‘Are you going to be alright?’ Aeris asks.

‘Of course I am,’ he says. He opens the door wider, clearly pressing the point of her needing to leave. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

Still confused and a little hurt, Aeris steps out onto the landing. The door closes with a _click_ before she can even turn around to say goodbye.

 

• • •

 

Boss spends most of the early evening pacing in his office, waiting for Chimera to check in. She doesn’t usually come in before nine on Monday nights, but he keeps expecting it to be her when there’s a knock on the door. He wishes he’d told her to come sooner.

He’s eyeing his watch, looking at the seconds dragging closer to nine o’clock when there’s finally another knock. Gleefully, he goes to open the door.

Chimera is standing there with her hair in a big messy bun, a lopsided jumper gaping over her slim shoulders and a pair of patchy jeans hugging her legs. She strides in, her face set. Boss contains himself with difficulty as he shuts the door and skirts around the desk. She stands there between the chairs, fiddling with her bag strap.

‘ _Welllllll?’_ he finally explodes.

She sighs, chucks her bag on one seat and lets herself fall onto the other.

‘Complete and utter failure.'

 

• • •


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains pieces of a oneshot of mine, you'll probably recognise which elements I'm talking about if you've read more of my stuff. Seeing as this fic basically contains all of my headcanons about FFVII's world, I kind of want to include all of the best ideas I've had in it. Hopefully it's not too redundant for those of you who do recognise it.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoy!

• • •

Elmyra doesn’t usually clean her daughter’s room. In fact, she’s been under strict orders not to open a single drawer or tuck a single curtain ever since Aeris started seeing Zack. Elmyra understood, in the first few months, that her daughter was stepping into new territory that Elmyra could have no influence over. She accepted the long nights, the lay-ins, and Aeris’s gradual shift from normal daylight hours to a more nocturnal life. Perhaps it was because she just wanted her daughter to be happy. Perhaps, even if there’s been something nagging at the back of her mind all this while, she accepted the new rhythm because of how Aeris seemed to bloom into a mature young woman in its pink-neon thrum.

But Elmyra wasn’t born yesterday. She hasn’t seen Zack with her own two eyes in months. And she hasn’t seen Aeris give her an honest smile in much longer than that.

One night, Elmyra decides to get up instead of staring at the ceiling and conjuring up reassuring ideas of what Aeris’s drawers might contain. She drifts across the landing, keeping her footfalls quiet after years of habit even though she knows Aeris’s bed is empty. She goes into her daughter’s room. Opens the door, flicks on the light. The freedom of inspecting her daughter’s room reminds her for a split second of when this room was a nursery. There had been the crib that her husband had made, standing under the windows instead of that bed. She smiles. Remembers the night before he was drafted for the last time. She’s accessed the memory so many times that she isn’t sure how much of it is real any more, but it doesn’t really matter.

One thing is certain; her daughter doesn’t deserve her entering into her privacy like this. Elmyra lets out a nervous sigh. There are a lot of unfair things that parents do to children. It’s for their own good, she reminds herself. Their own good. She only wants Aeris to be happy, after all, and she can’t do anything to help if Aeris keeps lying through her teeth to her.

She opens the wardrobe doors.

• • •

 

Three weeks after their first official booking at the party, Sephiroth calls back. As before, his tone is curt and clipped, as though he were ordering window repairs for his penthouse flat rather than the fulfillment of his fantasies. Aeris arranges to see him in a hotel room up above. She doesn’t ask where he’s been, if he’s alright, what he’s been up to. That isn’t part of the deal. He asks for a little more freedom, and she turns down almost all of his propositions except for those that wouldn’t strain her limits. (She thinks.)

She begins the hour with the usual pounding heart, the hand twisting her bag straps in the elevator, the hyperawareness of the way her clothes hug her body. Stitches line up with her spine and the insides of her thighs, a flimsy armour that he strips away as readily as if he were peeling a fruit. In minutes she’s naked but for her boots, wrists tied together behind her back, him pushing her down into the mattress so that she can’t breathe. She feels the sting of his palm against her thighs and backside even before he actually slaps her – the anticipation is strangely more painful than the act itself. When she can finally look at him properly she realises his hair is in a long, thick braid. It’s something he must’ve spent time twisting together, and she finds it almost inappropriate to look at him, like he’s the one who’s naked and writhing underneath her.

She ends the hour lying in a shameless diagonal across the bed, catching her breath and trying to regain feeling in her hands. Her disheveled hair covers half her face, her arms still tied behind her back at an awkward angle. Sephiroth is sitting in the armchair by the bed, wearing naught but his leather trousers and muddy boots, smoking a cigarette. Aeris blows a strand of hair away from her face to tell him to untie her wrists, and finds that he’s watching her, eyes traveling leisurely over the bruised curves of her body.

He leans over her to untie the ropes with one hand, then resumes smoking his cigarette and watching her as she pushes herself up on trembling arms. The blinds are half-drawn, the warm streetlights painting gold-leaf stripes across her skin. Her necklace is nestled between her breasts. Boss told her to bring it along even if she knew she couldn’t use it straight away, because the contract allowed her time to earn Sephiroth’s trust and create a more ideal situation for the mission. Not to mention her own sanity. She brushes more hair out of her eyes, sits back against the headrest for a moment, still catching her breath. After a few seconds of quiet, she asks him about the bank account.

He says nothing while he finishes his cigarette. She rubs listlessly at the carpet burn on her knees, waiting. Then he gets up, fetches a file from the laptop bag he brought along.  He sits back down, staring down at it as though he’s loath to hand them to her.

‘Was there a problem?’ Aeris asks, her voice still slightly hoarse.

‘No,’ Sephiroth says. He’s remembering the long explanation that the bank teller had given him, about how the law made it difficult for slum folk to access Midgarian bank services because they always ended up taking advantage of the system, living off of borrowed money and not bettering their situation. That slum folk were lazy and money-hungry and antisocial, and that it was a mistake to give in to one’s bleeding heart. Especially nowadays, with all this rising eco-terrorism and being unable to trust one’s own neighbours. He remembers thinking those things, finding an immutable logic in those principles. But the world has been slanted for a while now, and he couldn’t meet the bank teller’s eye. Couldn’t explain why he thought it sounded wrong.

‘What are you going to do with this?’ he asks Aeris.

Aeris stares at him. ‘What do you mean, what am I going to do with it?’ she asks in that same thin voice. ‘I’m going to take my cash out of my biscuit boxes and store it in a safer place. That’s the whole point of bank accounts.’

‘And then what?’ asks Sephiroth.

The conversation has barely started that Aeris has already had enough of it.

‘I thought we agreed there’d be no talking,’ she says. It’s too soon to trust her legs to carry her, but she still shuffles to the edge of the bed, pitting her weight onto her feet little by little.

‘In terms of indulgences, I believe I’m entitled to at least a small one from you. So go on.’ He lifts his chin at her, silver bangs swaying. ‘Indulge me.’

‘I’ve indulged you plenty already,’ Aeris says on a sigh. She’s too tired to outright attack him. She extends a hand. ‘It was part of the price last time. From where I’m sitting, you’ve owed me those papers for three weeks. So I can’t see why you’re overthinking it.’

He keeps the papers in his lap. ‘You do realise that if you inject a certain amount of earnings into this account, they’re going to start asking you for taxes on your revenue. And to justify where the money’s coming from.’

‘This work is legal in Midgar,’ Aeris says, staring at him dead-eyed. ‘However outrageous you find it, that’s just how it is.’

‘That doesn’t change the fact of your revenue being…’

‘What?’ Aeris raises an eyebrow. ‘Dirty? You’re contributing to it, remember. Most of my _dirty_ revenue is coming right out of your pocket.’

He sits, fiddling with the corner of the file, glowing eyes lost in thought. It’s the closest Aeris has ever gotten to seeing him in a vulnerable state. But seeing how her body still aches all over, she’s finding it difficult to feel compassionate for him.

After a few seconds, he passes her the papers.

‘There’s no overdraft,’ he informs her. ‘I’ve printed out all the codes you need. You should take care to destroy the papers once you’ve memorized them.’

Aeris takes them, rolls them up in her lap distractedly. Then she looks up at him. He’s standing up, reaching for his shirt with his back to her. She notices the long, angry-looking slashes across his back that are in the initial stages of scarring. He still has faint bruises around the neck and hips, too. He seems to have had a rough three weeks. She’s far from having reached the small talk stage though, so she can only guess at violent encounters. His braid falls down to the small of his back, weighing heavily along the curve of his spine, and for a moment she contemplates how strange it looks against a war-torn body. Perhaps it’s because she’s always associated braids with patient mothers and their gentle fingers, and she can’t imagine Sephiroth having any such woman in his life.

‘Sephiroth?’ Aeris asks.

‘Mm?’ He doesn’t turn around, just continues pulling his shirt on.

‘What made you change your mind?’

For that at least, he affords her a glance. ‘About what?’

‘About this. Paying to see a girl like me.’

He takes the time to button his shirt up before replying, his face turned away.

‘I’m still trying to understand that, myself,’ he says.

•

Aeris buys pink champagne and flowers on her way back down. She’s saving energy for the celebration itself, sitting grey-faced in the train with the bouquet in her lap as the carriage spirals back down to the slums. When she reaches her house, she sets everything up, takes out two glasses and hums to herself to try and create that giddy happiness that this should be bringing her. She’s got a bank account. She can put her money away and stop worrying about less fortunate slum folk breaking into her room and stealing from her. And more importantly – it’s the first stone in the edifice of her social status up above. This way she isn’t totally depending on Delaine, and at least _something’s_ coming out of this sexpionage circus.

One big step towards independence. Gaia, Elmyra’s going to be so happy.

She’s prepared a little speech about someone who noticed her flower business and offered a sponsorship up above. When Elmyra gets home from her errands, Aeris is ready, her lies neatly lined up behind her smile.

Elmyra lets herself be guided to the kitchen table. She takes the champagne flute, clinks it against Aeris’s in a toast. The pink liquid glows in the golden evening neons. She’s not as exuberant as Aeris would’ve thought, but Aeris doesn’t let herself falter. She takes her mother through the paperwork, explains where the bank is up above. Then at one point while Aeris is babbling about where to go from here and all the privileges that will be open to them, Elmyra looks up at her. Her expression is pained, her brow crinkled in the middle, and Aeris loses her train of thought.

‘Oh, child,’ Elmyra says.

Aeris feels her insides unravelling faster than a ball of yarn.

There is a repeated question, _just tell me the truth, sweetheart,_ and Aeris doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know where to start, she’s trying to calculate what mistakes she made for them to have come to this discussion when she was so, so careful. Then Elmyra is holding onto her wrists and Aeris is fighting against her, shouting something about privacy and how _dare_ Elmyra break her trust, and it’s all muddled and she’s running up the stairs without even thinking. The urge to escape is at its highest but there’s nowhere to go. She stands in the doorway of her bedroom, imagines what happened. She’s incoherently angry. Then Elmyra comes up the stairs, dragging her slippers a little in that familiar gait, and the anger evaporates when Aeris sees her smiling.

Elmyra stands by the bannister, leaning against it. The floor seems to be falling away from Aeris’s feet but somehow she’s still standing. She waits for the question, balancing on the knife-edge between self-righteous anger and absolute terror.

‘Tell me you’re safe,’ Elmyra asks.

‘I am,’ Aeris says firmly.

‘I never realised it had come to this,’ Elmyra says, and to Aeris’s horror, her voice is trembling. ‘I’ve always known this was no place for a girl like you to grow up. But I would’ve asked for more money, if you told me you were so unhappy. You know that. I would’ve done all I could.’

Aeris’s throat is closing up. ‘I’m not unhappy,’ she manages to say. ‘It’s not just about the money. I don’t – I don’t want us to depend on ShinRa’s charity like this. I want us to have a life. We deserve so much more than this.’

‘Of course,’ Elmyra says. ‘Of course you deserve more, sweetheart.’

‘You do too,’ Aeris insists.

Elmyra shakes her head. ‘I’m perfectly happy as long as you are. Don’t go thinking you need to sacrifice any part of yourself for me, child. That’s not you place.’

‘You don’t have the right to choose my place for me,’ Aeris says. ‘I want _both_ of us to have the life we always wanted, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.’

She ends in a wheeze, her throat is burning so much. Elmyra bows her head, closing her eyes.

‘I don’t care if you disapprove,’ Aeris insists, wild with panic. ‘I don’t care if you hate me – ’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Elmyra says. She steps forwards, places her liver-spotted hands on Aeris’s shoulders and pulls her into a hug. ‘I love you,’ she says, ‘I’ll always love you whatever you decide to do.’

Aeris’s hands ball into fists against Elmyra’s back. Her cheeks are hot with tears.

‘Mum,’ she sobs into Elmyra’s collar.

‘It’s OK, sweetie,’ Elmyra says, rubbing her daughter’s back, and they stand there on the landing until Aeris’s breathing has gone back to normal.

•

Aeris is a mess the next evening. She gets to the Bee, automatically checks up on her bookings and heads to her room to get ready. It feels like she’s trailing her mother up the stairs. She can imagine her commenting on the girls’ mismatched lingerie and less-than-perfect makeup. _Red shoes and orange nails? Who on the Planet raised these girls?_ It’s bizarre. While she works stockings up her thighs she can feel Elmyra’s eyes on her and she feels so ridiculous, she almost walks right back out again.

She finally comes back down to the bar and Gem is there, looking particularly regal as she reclines against the counter in a full latex costume. She’s smiling smugly about something over her glass of straight rum, so Aeris sidles over to her, greets her with their usual cheek-to-cheek.

‘A certain First Class called today,’ Gem says, hardly containing her glee between the corners of that sharp grin. ‘Says he wants to see me as soon as he gets back from his assignment. It’s been bloody ages. Months. _Years_. I’m expecting him to have grown a full beard and potbelly by now.’

Aeris manages to smile. She has a passing thought for how well Genesis keeps his promises. She tries to say something, but the humour dies on her tongue before she can say a single word. The bartender hands her the usual Bailey’s, so she takes it gratefully and sips.

Gem frowns at her, pretending outrage. ‘Chimera, this is preposterous. You’re not even remotely excited enough for me.’

‘Ah, sorry,’ Aeris says quickly. ‘That’s great, Gem. What did he say?’

‘Never mind him, what’s up with you?’ Gem asks in an immediate change of tack.

Aeris opens her mouth to speak, but there’s movement in the corner of her eye. Both girls turn their heads to see a small group of men and women, armed up to the teeth, entering the Bee. Their armour doesn’t look like anything official; rather, it looks pieced together from ShinRa scrap, though it looks solid enough.  

‘What the fuck?’ Gem mutters. They watch as Boss comes out of his office and welcomes them all with a handshake and a smile. Several girls including Harmony start approaching the group to hustle them. Gem makes a face at Harmony in an implicit invitation to haul her butt over to bar. Harmony is quick to respond. She excuses herself and comes over, squeezing in between Aeris and Gem and lifting two fingers at the barmaid to order her usual. 

‘Avalanche,’ Harmony mutters at them. ‘Six bloody Avalanche members, right here right now, and we’re meant to give them discounts.’

‘ _What?_ ’ Gem explodes, a little too loudly. ‘We could get _raided_ if they got tailed here – and we’re supposed to just roll over and reward them for putting us in danger?’

Aeris stares down into her drink. It’s got to have something to do with Delaine, surely. They’re on Avalanche’s side now, however implicit the deal is while Delaine still hesitates about buying a share of the place. She glances over at the Avalanche crew again. She tries to tell herself that they’ve got all the same goals as she does, but it’s hard to feel like she’s on equal grounds with them when they’re here to buy services and she’s here to provide.

‘Boss said it was something about them _blessing_ us with their patronage, or some wank like that,’ Harmony elaborates.

‘I had no idea we were choosing sides. He didn’t even ask us where we want the Bee to stand,’ Gem protests.

‘Should a brothel even stand anywhere on the spectrum?’ Harmony says with raised eyebrows. ‘We’re supposed to provide a neutral service, not hold the party leader’s cock while he spouts bullshit about helping the poor.’

‘ _Is_ it a neutral service, though?’ Aeris finds herself saying. ‘Men are at their most vulnerable around us.’

Harmony and Gem both stare at her. Then Gem grins.

‘Weren’t you like the greenest girl around here a week ago?’ she says. ‘Where did all this fire come from?’

‘Maybe it’s got something to do with working in a brothel for almost a year,’ Harmony answers for her. ‘And having to give _discounts_.’

Aeris hums in agreement, glancing over at the Avalanche crew again. Some of them are climbing the stairs with girls on their arm, the dim faerie lights glinting off of their metallic pauldrons. She wonders, wickedly perhaps, what it would feel like to bed an Avalanche member right before showing up at Sephiroth’s door. She downs her drink, brings up the image of her and Elmyra walking hand in hand outside the gates of Midgar, and gets up from her stool.

  
• • •  
  


Genesis has just finished scrubbing the blood off his face when his phone rings. He flips his hair out of his eyes, checks the caller ID. After all he had to put his troops through today, he’s hardly in the mood – but the implicit arrangement he has with Aeris is too precious for him to ignore even a single phone call. Who knows when they might stop altogether? It’s already miraculous enough that she’s managed to keep her position, let alone that Sephiroth decided to commit to her in the first place.

The Commander sits in his bunk, reclining against his cushions. He’s so tired that the plump comfort of his bed makes him yearn for sleep instead of this. Still, he diligently swipes Answer and brings the phone to his ear, closing his eyes to the bullet-crippled walls around him.

‘And how are you on this fine evening?’ he says.

‘Good, except it’s morning over here,’ says Aeris. Her voice sounds distant and crackly, but it’s the best signal he can get out here. ‘I saw him last night. It’s the third night running – he’s getting almost clingy, he must have a mission soon or something.’

‘Who knows. Maybe the Goddess granted him feelings after all.’

Aeris snorts, and Genesis smiles along with her.

‘How was it?’ Genesis asks.

‘Same hotel, same room,’ she says. ‘He wanted to push the limits a little. I charged him extra but he doesn’t seem to care how high the numbers get. I had to pretend that I was asleep. We agreed that I’d get comfortable first, and that he’d come in afterwards…’

Genesis closes his eyes. Imagines the scene as Aeris describes it. His free hand is lingering by his belt, fiddling with the cold metal buckle.

‘So he comes in, locks the door. I’m on my back, waiting. He pulls the bedsheets off me slowly and spreads my thighs. It’s surprising, how gentle he can be when you know the damage he can do. He kneels on the bed, pulls my underwear to the side, slicks his fingers up and trails them between my legs… pushes them into me. I’m not meant to wake up yet, so I stay as still as I can and keep my eyes closed. He does this – _thing_ , I have no idea where he learned to do that – he goes in deep, up to the knuckle with two fingers and he manages to light me up somehow. It’s probably the only thing he’s good at, really, but still. It’s strange though, he never puts his mouth on me, whether it’s down there or to kiss me. Like it’s far too personal and intimate to do that.’

Genesis is stroking himself through his leather trousers now, though it’s still deliberately slow. ‘A kiss can prove far more intimate than penetration,’ he murmurs.

‘Well, I guess I _could_ agree with you in theory. But in practice, I’d much rather kiss someone I don’t like than have them ram into me.’

‘Mm,’ Genesis agrees vaguely. ‘So how far did he go before officially waking you up?’

She talks; he listens. The first time she called him and made him realise he was completely at liberty to ask whatever he wanted, he’d wanted to apologize, perhaps remind her that she didn’t have to indulge him like this. That he’d been very drunk, that night at his place when he’d asked all those inappropriate questions. But she pretended that it was all just a part of ‘letting him know how it went’, and he ended up stepping into the game with relish. Goddess knew he needed the distraction out here, if anything. 

Her voice is soft and breathy even with the crackle of distance, and soon he’s plunged deep into the scene, his hand unbuttoning his trousers and closing over his erection as he imagines Sephiroth pinning him there, biting his neck, fucking him until he’s got no voice left to scream. Then Aeris describes Sephiroth finishing with his cock spurting thick white come over the bruised skin of her backside and Genesis bites his lip. He’s so close to the edge. The ring of his fingers is pumping over the sensitive crown of his cock, slowing down, speeding up, trying to control it but he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t let go.

‘What was that, sorry?’ he breathes. ‘You were breaking up.’

Aeris starts to go over the climax again, but there’s a knock on the door. Cursing, Genesis quickly shoves his erection back into his trousers.

‘Yes?’ he says loudly just as he’s buttoning up. The door bursts open, one of his men leaning in to tell him there’s a situation at the foot of the cliff. He stands up, saying into his phone in a loud official tone, ‘Yes, good, get that report to me in the morning,’ before hanging up.

On the other side of the world, Aeris grins to herself, staring down at her phone and rubbing her thumb over Genesis’s name on the screen.

•

Genesis hates the Launch Pad border. The cliffs and beaches have become warped versions of themselves, crippled with detonated mines and barbed wire and hangars full of prisoners. Each village that they manage to push the Wutains out of suffers the consequences of being trapped between two warring nations – the illegal use of materia on the Wutains’ part, and the bombs that ShinRa’s aircrafts drop onto the warzones have made quick work of anything larger than houses. Nowadays most of Genesis’s work involves keeping the place secure while Angeal takes care of matters across the water. He’s at least glad that they’re past the vicious guerilla stage. Wutains being much more proficient with magic meant heavy losses on their side, and he’s sick of watching his men’s trust in him plummet.

Unfortunately, it’s not just elemental magic that the Wutains use to try and push through the closed border. Genesis stands atop a cliff outside of his main outpost with several of his captains, staring out in the black depths of night. He can hear the lapping waves way down below, but he can’t see them. The absence of a horizon makes him feel like they’re standing on the edge of the known world, staring into an abyss. The troopers behind them work on pointing the floodlights properly ahead, and then they can make out a strip of sand, a stretch of black water. Genesis squints to try and glimpse something.

‘Sea or sky?’ he asks his captain.

‘The townspeople down there said they heard it splash into the water,’ the woman tells him. ‘Our men confirmed it on the radars. Nothing that can be described as man-made.’

Genesis scowls. ‘A summon, then.’

He glances over his shoulder at their base, the barracks and tents and constellation of flashlights that follow each trooper’s movements. So many souls, all depending on his proper command. He’s lost so many already due to the inability of being everywhere at once. Every single day, he feels it – the eyes on his back, the silent judgement. He hears it sometimes, too. _If Sephiroth were here, this would be over in a matter of days._ He smooths a hand over his aching side, trying not to make it too obvious as he pummels the month-old pain, and heads back to his quarters to pick up his weapons.

‘The evacuation order is under way?’ he barks at his captain.

‘For the prisoners, sir?’

 ‘It isn’t done yet?’

‘They’re mostly Wutain terrorists and anti-ShinRa – ’

‘Evacuate them. All of them.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Get me a solid perimeter around the town. Send word out to our neighbours that the bastards will certainly hit elsewhere while we’re busy with this new devilry.’

‘Right away, sir. And for the summon?’

Genesis frowns. A year ago he could’ve taken it by himself, but now… the pain has been hitting in the worst moments, making his movements sloppy and inconsistent, straining his muscles. He hasn’t slept in forty-two hours and he’s beginning to feel the toll far more keenly than usual. He tries to push aside his pride as he takes the most rational route;

‘Bring me three or four Seconds from E-block and we’ll take it down.’

 

They’re in the helicopter when they finally see it. A huge roiling mass pressing up against the dark skin of the sea, never quite breaking it. The helicopter lights skitter over its humungous shape, trying to find the ends of it. Then turquoise fins break the surface of the water, stringy and translucent, like they’re made of water themselves. Genesis holds onto the overhead handles, gritting his teeth. He yells into his headset for the helicopter to take them closer, prepping a Float spell in his free hand. The creature rears up out of the water as they approach – its head is elegant and aquiline, trailing long antennae, and its eyes are red and gleaming as it snaps its huge jaws in the helicopter’s direction.

It’s the Leviathan. Genesis feels his insides drop as the helicopter swerves out of the way. He’s heard of it in legends, read about it in old handwritten copies of Wutain folk tales he managed to collect, seen it in temple pillars sculpted to its likeness. 

He tells himself it’s just a summon like any other. But this one… he knows this one is worshiped as a god. And seeing the way its huge body shimmers in the moonlight, Genesis finds it difficult to believe it’s anything other than divine.

The serpent god shrieks. The sound is more akin to ice scraping ice than anything remotely animal. The Soldiers wince as it almost pierces their eardrums. There’s no time for reverence. Genesis glances at his Seconds, casts a Master-level Float on them. Then the Leviathan rears further up into a great arch, and Genesis leaps into thin air, seafoam spattering across his face as he aims for the summon’s fins.

His sword cleaves through and he grips onto it as a hold. Automatically he looks up for his Seconds, but the creature lurches forwards and he can’t do anything else than hold on, vision taken up by turquoise scales. It isn’t the first time he’s been up against a summon of this size – except he’s never been in worse shape, and he was usually accompanied by another First. This time… this time he has no idea whether his partners are fit for the job. It’s reckless. But it’s all he can do.

He can hear his captain in his earpiece, shouting details about the situation on land as he makes his way across the Leviathan’s back. The Seconds are casting Bolt spells that are crackling through the creature’s body, ricocheting off of Genesis’s Mbarrier spell in bouquets of sparks. He leaps, cleaving straight through one of the Leviathan’s fins where it meets its body. It _screams._

‘You’re going to have to speak louder!’ he yells at his earpiece. ‘I’m in a bit of a noisy environment!’

‘The wave!’ she shouts at him again. ‘The tidal wave will be hitting the beach in under one minute!’

‘We’ll take it down in less than that!’ Genesis assures her.

‘Will that stop the wave?’

‘When a summon dies, so does its magic!’ Genesis explains.

‘I understand that, but how do you know that the wave is pure magic? How do you know it wasn’t created by its impact?’

Genesis doesn’t know. He can’t know. _I’m doing the best I can,_ he wants to yell, but he knows it would sound inappropriately childish. He leaps high above the Leviathan, the Float spell carrying him much further than the laws of gravity should allow, and charges a Master-level Bolt. When it streaks across the creature, its whole body lights up – and Genesis sees the tidal wave beyond. Huge and looming, black as night. He grits his teeth, glances back at the seaside village as he starts falling. If it hits the beach, it’ll annihilate both the village and his outpost.

He makes his choice. He yells into his earpiece to his Seconds, picking one and telling the others to follow that person’s directives. Then he lets himself plummet down to the Leviathan’s scaly, thrashing back and bounces away again, flying across the expanse of sea that separates him from the beach.

Genesis knows that regular materia users are physically limited to casting Mbarrier over three or four people. The more gifted materia user can stretch it to a whole platoon. Sephiroth set a record when he cast one that enveloped almost a thousand of his men, back during the glory days.

The Commander lands on the beach, collapsing into a roll. He gets up, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain spears through his side. He staggers to the edge of the sea, trying to stand up straight as the water recedes further and further away from his feet. Closing his eyes, he channels his materia. If he counts the prisoners that are being evacuated along with his men, there are approximately fifteen thousand people on this shore. Not to mention the buildings and the equipment that their outpost contains.

Hair whipping in the harsh wind, Genesis focuses on channeling the magic until he feels like his spine is a bright green pillar of Mako. It’s searing through his veins – the effort, the magical exertion of demanding this much from his materia – but he pulls at the source with outstretched fingers, gritting his teeth so hard he’s sure he’ll break them into crumbs. He can feel the wind curling around him as the magical energy forms a cocoon around his body. A growl is building in his throat as he teeters on the edge of release, building the spell up as far as he can, veins pounding in his temple. His heart is about to explode. He doesn’t care. He stretches his arms out and stares up at the sky.

He releases the spell.

A shivering wave of magic bursts across the air, spreading outwards like a glittery gangrene. It forms a wall, painting the air with a transparent brush, coating it in a thick impenetrable layer of magic. It spreads and spreads, until the shore is entirely protected.

Genesis is a speck on the beach in the face of the elements ahead of him. He stands, the sand around his feet crystallising with the power of the spell. The tidal wave crashes against nothingness, and it’s the most bizarre thing to see water scattering across thin air. Genesis watches through squinted eyes as the wave sluices across his spell, skirting sideways and back into itself. He can almost feel it against his body, like the spell is an extension of himself. He yells into his earpiece with what little strength he has left to see how his Seconds are faring – only one answers him, telling him the others fell into the sea and haven’t surfaced. He waits, holding onto what feels like the weight of the world as the water sloshes back down to a safe level. Then he lets go.

The shimmering wall falls down to the floor like so many crystal beads. Genesis crumples to his knees as the magic leaves his body. He doesn’t trust the solidity of the ground – he feels so light that surely he should be falling right through it. The sand has turned into a gritty crystal floor, but he doesn’t realise just how badly his knees hurt as he pushes against it to get up again. The Leviathan is still up ahead, shrieking and thrashing. He unsheaths his sword, face set as he reaches for the last dregs of his strength. There’s work to be done.

•

When Genesis wakes up, he’s lying in an infirmary, covered in blood. The pain is so bad that it’s all he can think about. He looks around himself, eyes adjusting to the light. It must be morning. Several figures are standing by the door. _Goddess_ , the pain. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back. It’s like a sword is lodged in his guts, lacerating him with every movement.

Someone is sitting by the bed. He turns his head to look.

The morning light frames Sephiroth’s silver hair, making it glow. Genesis almost can’t believe his friend is physically here, he looks so goddamned angelical.  Sephiroth looks down at him, tight-lipped and disapproving.

‘How many times have we been here?’ he asks.

‘Last time I believe our roles were reversed,’ Genesis wheezes out.

‘A rare occurrence,’ Sephiroth says.

‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that.’

He’s too caught up in the impression of being in a dream to ask why Sephiroth is there. There’s something on his wrist – a warm weight enclosing it. He twitches his hand, lifts his head to look.

Sephiroth is holding his wrist so tight that his knuckles are going white.

He looks up again, searching his old friend’s expression. Sephiroth’s face seems impassible as always, except Genesis has always known where to look. The man’s jaw is clenched, his brow ever so slightly tense. He almost looks scared.

‘I suppose you’re here to tell me I’m an idiot?’ Genesis says, because he can’t stand how heavy the silence has gotten.

‘No one has ever attempted what you did,’ Sephiroth says. ‘Not even me. The magical exertion should’ve ripped you apart. The only thing that saved you was sheer dumb luck. _Again_.’

Genesis manages to grin. ‘Seems like you’ve got a new record to beat.’

Sephiroth echoes his smile, shaking his head slightly. ‘I’m not suicidal.’

‘Sounds like an excuse to me.’

The General reclines, lifting his free hand towards the window. A nurse comes in from the corridor and begins to ask Genesis how he feels, specific questions about nausea and dizziness. Even as he replies, all of Genesis’s attention is still on that point of contact between him and his old friend, the way Sephiroth isn’t letting go. Then he does, and Genesis’s hand closes, fingers curling slowly. He makes a conscious effort not to grab at the air.

‘How is it out there?’ he asks.

‘It’s close to being won,’ Sephiroth says. ‘I was finally called in to deal with the ambushes that the Wutains tried to spring after the Leviathan attack last night. According to Angeal, this was one of their last-ditch efforts to reclaim the border. They hardly have the numbers to try anything else, now. And I believe they never summon their Leviathan unless the situation has gotten very dire for them…’

 The pride at having Sephiroth sitting by his sickbed looking genuinely concerned deflates immediately at the mention of the Leviathan. Genesis stares blankly ahead of himself.

‘Is it still out there?’

‘It’s been slowly fading since you defeated it.’

Genesis sits up, dragging wires. The nurse tries to pacify him, so Genesis looks around at his friend.

‘I want to see it.’

Sephiroth sighs, and then nods at the nurse for her to start unplugging her patient.

 

Slowly, they step out into the glaring midday sun. Sephiroth is at Genesis’s side in full armour, whilst Genesis has only donned his coat over his bandaged abdomen. Even the coat feels too heavy for him to carry. All around them in their camp, troopers stop what they’re doing and stand to attention when they walk past. Sephiroth leads his friend ahead, and Genesis can’t help noticing how avidly his men are staring at them.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ Sephiroth mutters.

Genesis raises an eyebrow. ‘You do realise they always act like perfect tin soldiers when you’re around.’

‘They aren’t saluting me, Genesis.’

The Commander frowns, looking a little harder at his men. Some of them are openly smiling at him. Others stand stiffly in their salute position, staring solemnly at the red-haired First Class.

‘You saved them,’ Sephiroth says. ‘You did the impossible and saved all of them.’

Genesis looks down at the floor.

‘When are you going to accept that it’s possible for you command as much respect as I do?’

Sephiroth leads him out of their encampment and across the cliff paths. They walk under the surveillance towers, greeting those on patrol duty. Then just as the beach starts coming into view, Sephiroth dithers, letting Genesis walk ahead of him. They stop when they can both see the great glimmering mass of the dead god lying across the beach.

The Leviathan is nothing more than a silvery outline of itself, now. Its physical body is breaking up into Lifestream, drifting away like so many fireflies. The lapping waves reflect the green lights, and Genesis is entranced by the sight of it, how calm and serene the scene is after yesterday’s chaos. All around it, he realises there is a dark ring – people have formed a circle around it, sitting prostrate around the fallen god.

‘The prisoners were asking to send it off,’ Sephiroth explains to him. ‘I told your men to escort them and keep an eye on them.’

Genesis glances over his shoulder at his friend. ‘That doesn’t sound like something you’d allow.’

‘I was trying to emulate what you would say,’ Sephiroth says. ‘This is your outpost, after all.’

Something pulls at Genesis’s heart as he watches his friend smile at him, expecting the words to be taken as flattery. But it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. He looks back down at the fallen god, trying to reach for the feelings he _should_ be experiencing. There’s nothing except the thrum of constant pain, and the feeling that a corporation like ShinRa never deserved such a huge sacrifice.

He licks his dry lips, and does the only thing that feels appropriate: he quotes poetry as his own send-off.   
‘”The sun shone down upon that putrescence,  
As if to roast it to a turn  
and to give back to Gaia,   
everything She had combined.   
And the sky watched as the superb carcass  
like a flower, bloomed.”’

There is a beat of silence, before Sephiroth puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on. You need to rest.’

• • •  
  


The next two weeks passed in a blur. Genesis moved from post to post like an automaton. He had switched himself off, given in to blind obeisance because there was no way he could behave otherwise when part of himself felt broken. He went where Sephiroth told him to go, killed who he needed to kill. When someone’s voice crackled over the radio one night, telling them that the enemy had agreed to a ceasefire, that Angeal had brought them to heel – Genesis felt nothing. When someone else’s voice crackled over the radio several evenings later, urging the press to make their way to the capital where the official ceremony of surrender would occur – Genesis felt nothing.

He spent his time in the prisoner hangars, listening to their demands, getting their stories and mapping out whose relatives were in which camp. While the others were busy celebrating and organizing their trips back to Midgar in time for the winter solstice, he meticulously arranged for children and parents and families to be reunited, shifted from camp to camp with the proper escorts. It was the only thing that made him feel a modicum of comfort.

The night of the so-called ceremony, he was still in one of the hangar’s offices, trying to link names and directing the troopers who were handing out food and water. His phone had been off for the past two days – he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t be going to the capital with the rest of the high-ranking officials, however much Sephiroth barked and growled and tried to pull rank on him. The radio sputtered with cheers and solemn voices from the ceremony. Genesis recognized Sephiroth’s, and then the deep accented voice of an elderly man. Surely the emperor. One of the prisoners waved over at him, calling for him – _Comanda, Comanda –_ and he looked up, raking his hair out of his eyes. Several Wutains were waving and talking at him now, urgently, and he tried to pick out words he knew though they all seemed to be speaking different a dialect to what he’d studied. Some were making dial motions with their hands, and another said the word “to hear”, so he diligently went to the radio and turned up the volume.

All the adult prisoners sat hunched, listening as their emperor spoke. They had never been so quiet. Several of them took to translating into different Wutain dialects. After a few seconds, seeing how the ones who sat further away still strained to hear, Genesis took the radio, marched down the aisle and placed it on the floor, approximately in the centre of the hangar. He returned to his office, head bowed, acutely aware of the gazes on his back. There was no wiping away what he had done. What he had facilitated. But for some reason, feeling the hatred of their gazes felt far better than the reverent salutes that his men gave him whenever he set foot outside.

‘… deeply apologise for the disrespect we have shown to the leaders of this new, modern age. To show humility, we will lay down arms and accept the terms…’

Genesis stood by his door. A woman let out a heart-rending cry, before being shushed by someone else. He put a hand on the doorframe. Then he forced himself to turn around and look at them again.

‘… hereby vow to make available our Mako-rich territory, and open our minds to the possibilities of a bright, modern future… this project has been weighed very seriously by our government, and we agree that in these difficult times, there may be no other way to repair our economy than to consider sharing the fruits of our land…’

Genesis wondered if Sephiroth had ever done this. Spent night after night in hangars full of unwashed, stinking prisoners from the four corners of Wutai. Talked with enough of them to be able to distinguish paupers from noblemen, northerners from southerners, concubines from matriarchs. Suddenly he felt so very distant from the General – and it went so much further than the simple fact that Sephiroth was in the capital, forcing an entire nation to bend the knee, whilst Genesis was here trying to place band-aids on a fatal injury. He wasn’t quite sure Sephiroth understood the gravity of what was happening. He wasn’t quite sure any of them did. And try as he might, he couldn’t find a single poem to describe the solitude of a man who only just realised he might be on the wrong side of a war.

At one point, a man began to sing. Another took it up, and then a few women added higher voices to the deep, gravelly tune. It seemed to be a thick patois and Genesis didn’t understand the words, but it was easy enough to guess. Gradually, they drowned out the sound of their emperor selling their nation to ShinRa.

Genesis hardly let himself think before he started unbuckling his pauldrons. A few shining eyes turned to look in his direction as he let them fall heavily to the floor. Next was his trademark military coat, which he let slide down his arms. He stood facing them, divested of his armour. Then he sank to his knees.

‘Sir?’ asked one of the troopers who was guarding his office door.

Genesis bowed to the prisoners until his forehead touched the floor.

• • •

 

All around Midgar, there were public viewings of the ceremony of surrender. On the plate, huge plasma screens mounted in commercial centres and town squares showed images of the clean palace courtyard they’d chosen to conduct the ceremony. Images of the Wutain emperor in his imperial regalia, flanked by his family, brought glimpses of a much older world into the glass citadel of Midgar.

In the slums, ‘public viewings’ meant gatherings in pubs or the homes of those who owned a TV. Boss had the TV from his office brought out into the bar, and for a moment Bee girls and clients all crowded around to watch, reverting to simple Midgarian civilians rather than customers and providers. The one shy Bee girl who was from Wutai, Reiko, surprised everyone by drinking her way through it, turning it into a drinking game and shooting saké every time the emperor said ‘the people’. A few girls drank with her as moral support, so that the mood turned from solemn to despairingly mocking.

Aeris sat beside Gem on the couches, watching with her knees drawn up to her chest. Sephiroth stood beside the emperor, along with Zack’s mentor that she’d glimpsed a few times, Angeal. She looked at Sephiroth’s face, how icy cold and flat his expression was. She had spent quite a few nights with him now, but it was difficult to believe that the violent, conflicted man she knew was the same cold decorated Soldier who stood there on international TV. She tried to look a little harder at his face to notice the cracks she was getting accustomed to seeing. Now and then while the emperor spoke, he’d look into the distance as though trying to search for someone. Then he’d lean closer to Angeal and whisper something, to which Angeal would either nod or discreetly reply.

At one point the camera swept across the gathering of officials who were sitting in rows to listen to their emperor, and the Seconds who were guarding the assembly came into view. The girls all pointed and roared as Zack walked onto the screen in his formal gear, arms crossed as he watched the crowd for any suspicious movements. Gem dug an elbow into her side and Aeris shied away, laughing. Seeing him made her ache to hug him, or just sit with some tea and talk about all the things she’d been going through that he’d been missing. She couldn’t talk to anyone else but him about Elmyra, and these past few weeks she’d been on the verge of combustion because of it. The initial surge of emotions had gradually turned into well-intended but irritating remarks about Aeris’s health, and implied quotation marks everywhere. _How long are you ‘working’ tonight? I packed you some snacks, you’ve got a long night of ‘work’ ahead of you._ She bit her lip, suddenly even more impatient for him to get home.

Then Hegemony said, ‘Where’s Genesis?’ and effectively pushed Zack to the back of Aeris’s mind again. Where _was_ Genesis? Everyone else who had a high status in ShinRa’s army seemed to be there.

‘He’s probably busy raiding the imperial library,’ Aeris said, and Gem snorted.

‘Looks like you’re starting to know him pretty well,’ Gem said. Aeris glanced at her; her face was set, her smile a little too strained. She was wearing that brave face that Aeris was used to seeing during interminable nights. ‘But honestly, even for books I don’t think he’d miss out on all this fame and glory. Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid.’

Aeris thought back on the night she’d spent with him, the way he’d traced the ink lines of Wutain flowers with his fingertips.

‘Maybe he doesn’t want to be associated with this,’ she said.

‘Are you joking?’ Gem cried. ‘He ditched me so many times for random ShinRa-hosted events that would further his career. There’s no way he’d miss standing at the pinnacle like this.’

Aeris looked at her friend. She had the same strange feeling as when she’d been alone with Genesis in his flat – that the people he used for sexual release never got to see anything else than that boisterous social veneer of his. And it wasn’t fair. Gem had known him for so long.

‘He’s seeing you as soon as he comes back, right?’ she asked.

‘The little shit cancelled on me like two days after making the booking,’ Gem said. ‘Said there was a ‘schedule conflict’ because the situation had changed. Then he said he hadn’t been getting much sleep and probably wouldn’t ‘be at his best’ anyway instead of giving me probable dates.’

Aeris reached out and took Gem’s hand. From her experience with hesitant clients, that sounded a lot like a polite way of saying ‘I’m not interested’, and Gem probably knew it just as well as Aeris did.

‘I’m sure he just wants to rest before plunging back into all those straps and buckles,’ Aeris tried to joke.

‘Yeah, I know.’

They resumed watching in silence, Aeris trying to ignore the dead weight of guilt in her belly, Gem pulling her hand away from Aeris’s in order to top up her rum.

• • •  
  


After the initial shock came the judgments. More than once, the girls had to protect Reiko against men who were disrespectful towards her. There was one night where she surprised everyone even further – a man had tried to manhandle her in the bar, and she’d cast a withering Ice spell across the whole place, halting all other activities until Aeris had managed to thaw it with a controlled use of Fire. Boss had had to gather them all and give them a little speech about how they should never endanger themselves by giving in to violent impulses, that they should let security handle ill-mannered men. But emotions were strained, tempers were hot. Whenever Avalanche members came to their door, they were given a royal welcome, the bar turning more and more into a place for men and women to bow their heads and speak in hushed tones of what was to come.

There was news of a homecoming march after the Soldiers’ victorious return from Wutai. Hegemony was one of the only ones in the Bee who was excited about attending, though she didn’t make it public knowledge. There had been leaked footage of the First Class boarding the impressive aircraft that would take them home, and Gem had barged into Aeris’s room to show her the photos, relieved to see Genesis alive and well. Seeing him in the flesh would cement that relief, and that was all she cared about.

Aeris was a little more reserved about the idea of attending a pro-ShinRa march. But she wanted to see Zack so badly. She grudgingly accepted to meet up with Gem at the train station on the appointed day.

It was two days before the winter solstice. On their way up the march was all anyone would talk about, and it wasn’t talked about kindly. People were either boycotting or joining the anti-march strikes that had begun to form. Aeris held Gem’s hand, both of them staring silently out the windows.  When the train stopped at the relevant Sector, they hopped out. Everyone else from their carriage was going the opposite way, and Aeris tried not to feel the looks they received as they hurried along.

The crowds of supporters were closely guarded by armed troopers. Aeris and Gem were patted down before they were allowed to wade into the mass of people. The main high street ultimately led to the ShinRa HQ, but the marching band had already stopped, framing whatever was happening. Gem offered to let Aeris climb on her shoulders to see better, but with the HQ looming so close, Aeris preferred not to attract attention to herself. She watched on the plasma screens that had been hooked up to the main buildings around them instead.

She bit her lip when she saw Sephiroth in a decorated military suit. It was nothing like the armour she’d previously seen him wearing. The shoulders were padded, the fabric matching the deep crimson of ShinRa’s official logo. His white hair marked a stark contrast against it, combed back so that it wouldn’t hide the medals and ribbons affixed to his chest. The rows of Soldiers facing him were all wearing black and blue save for the other Firsts, who were in a lighter shade of red.

She glanced at Hegemony when Genesis and Angeal came on the screen. Genesis’s red suit looked like it had been specifically designed for him, he wore it so well. Aeris wondered if anyone else would notice the irony of it. Gem was clapping and whistling, clearly delighted. Aeris sighed, keeping her worries to herself as she watched the camera zoom in on Genesis and Angeal.

‘Soldier First Class, Angeal Hewley,’ President Shinra’s voice boomed through the speakers.      

•

They had come to the part of the ceremony that Genesis had been dreading the most. He watched numbly as Angeal stepped up to Sephiroth, straight-backed and alone. The President described each of the three medals he had earned, and Sephiroth put them around his neck. Genesis stared at the streets ahead distractedly. Beyond the cries of the crowd, he could pick up the sound of gunfire, shouting, glass breaking. It was relatively far from the ceremony, and it would probably be short-lived seeing ShinRa’s no-tolerance policy when it came to strikes, but he found himself fiercely glad that it was happening. That Midgar was fighting back.

Angeal was walking back towards him. Shit. It would be his turn in a few seconds.

‘Soldier First Class, Genesis Rhapsodos.’

He looked at Sephiroth’s regally clad figure ahead. The tarmac seemed to stretch for miles between them. He tried to move, but was frozen to the spot.

Angeal put a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re all with you, Gen,’ he muttered. There was that gruff pride in his voice, igniting Genesis’s courage. He took a step forwards. Then another.

Sephiroth was taking a medal from an open box that a trooper was holding open for him. Genesis lifted his chin and marched onwards amidst the cheers and whistling of the crowd. This was his moment. He remembered dreaming of this when he was younger. Of being bestowed the highest honour by Sephiroth himself. Shaking hands with him in a show of equality in front of crowds and crowds of people.

Being hailed as a hero.

… so why did he feel like such an imposter?

He was in front of Sephiroth now. His ears were buzzing, his body completely empty. There was no emotional response happening in his gut and he had half a mind to pinch himself, slap himself, make himself feel _something._ He could imagine his younger self watching him jealously, eyes wide and sparkling. Sephiroth contemplated him, a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth. There was pride there, too – Genesis could see it. The two people he loved most in the world held him in much higher esteem than he had ever hoped. And yet when Sephiroth unclasped the ribbon in order to place it around Genesis’s neck, he wanted only one thing – violently – to fling it away like trash.

‘For selfless acts which saved the lives of many,’ intoned the President. ‘Our new hero of Wutai.’

Genesis could feel laughter rising in his throat. It was dizzying, being unable to remember why he was here at all, why he had chosen this. He saw himself taking off the medal, handing it back to Sephiroth. He saw himself running, flying, as far away from Midgar as he could possibly go. He saw himself rewinding Time to that moment where he’d accepted to come to Midgar, and stayed with his books instead, stayed with his apple tree and his parent’s manor and his family. Maybe he could’ve made things work. Maybe if he hadn’t been so selfish. He should’ve known that being at the very top was no enviable position. Even Sephiroth had told him, time and time again. But he hadn’t listened.

Goddess, why the hell had he come here?

Sephiroth pulled at the fingers of his gloves and took them off. Extended a naked hand at Genesis. Mutely, Genesis took it and they shook hands. And then Sephiroth did something he had never done before – he breached protocol and pulled Genesis into a hug.

And Genesis remembered why.

• • •

 

‘Mr Rhapsodos, sir! It’s a pleasure to hear from you. It’s been a while.’

Hegemony perked up – she was lounging in the bar, making conversation with a few other early birds. Business wouldn’t pick up for a couple of hours yet, but she’d wanted to make herself available as soon as the march had reached its end.

‘No, you stay here,’ Harmony said playfully, grabbing her arm and forcing her to sit when the woman tried to unfold her legs. ‘You’ve done enough prancing around lately.’

‘And you should play cold and unattainable,’ Vale put in.

‘Are you kidding? I haven’t seen him in ages,’ Gem told them with a breathless grin, though she stayed put. ‘He’s been the _cold and unattainable_ one, that slippery bastard. If I hadn’t seen him at the march he might as well have been dead.’

‘And you miss him so much, don’t you?’ Harmony said, poking her in the side. ‘Your precious S-and-M student – ’

‘Uh, in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s been a war on? He’s been busy and stressed out of his mind,’ Gem reminded her. ‘And besides, when you’re in Sephiroth’s entourage, your quota of masochism probably gets filled regardless of whether the practices are sexual or not.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Harmony said, lifting her pointy heels so that she was resting her legs across Gem’s lap. ‘Let’s just hope that he hasn’t developed a preference for his _lordship_.’

 ‘Come on. Don’t act like you wouldn’t love that.’

‘To see you grovel in the dirt with us? Definitely.’ She grabbed the brunette around the neck and forced her head down playfully. ‘Down in the mud!’

‘Isn’t it a possibility though? You did say he swings both ways,’ Vale added.

‘No Upperworld man stands a chance against what I can give him!’ Gem let out, struggling out of Harmony’s grip. ‘I’m his fucking goddess!’

The banter went on, the girls roughing each other up a little. After they’d calmed down Gem realized it had been at least a few minutes and Boss still hadn’t called anyone to his office. Gem dusted herself off, trying not to get her hopes up too much as she pushed herself off the sofa.

Boss was probably just getting the paperwork done. Perhaps it wouldn’t do to seem too eager and burst into his office to ask what was going on, where she’d meet up with him, all that. But she couldn’t help the bubbling feeling of anticipation that was always there at the prospect of seeing her pupil. Her gatekeeper to the world of luxury. He _had_ apologized for canceling on her last time, even though he’d been all indecisive afterwards. He at least owed her this, one solid booking, even if it was the last time they saw each other.

She lingered at the door to Boss’s office, hearing a faint voice. He was organizing something, it would never do to disturb him. But why hadn’t he notified her of anything before going on to other business?

She knocked. Pulled down the handle. Stepped in. Boss looked up at her while he acquiesced on the phone, frowning at her slightly. She pointed at herself; he shook his head.

‘Yes, well,’ he continued the conversation, ‘she isn’t here yet, but I will notify her of your proposition when she arrives. I don’t believe she was open to the possibility of doing any more outcalls, but since it’s you, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.’

Gem stared at him; after catching his attention again she mouthed _Genesis?_ He nodded at her, before making a shooing motion with his hand. Heart in her throat, Gem backed out of the office slowly enough to catch any more information he might let out.

‘Yes, on Wednesday nights she tends to show up at around ten o’clock. Her availability may be subject to change soon, though. I was told by a colleague of mine that there is something planned for the returning Soldiers – congratulations, by the way. No, it’s well deserved. I’ll keep you informed, of course. Yes. My pleasure.’

She couldn’t help it. The door burst open, an angry Mohawk-topped woman striding in and standing before her boss in all her fuming glory.

‘Yes, _what is it?_ ’ Boss asked her rather impatiently as he set down the phone.

‘Was that Genesis?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he wasn’t asking for me.’

Boss heaved a sigh, glaring up at his worker. ‘No, Hegemony, he wasn’t asking for you. You might do well to remember that this is a very liberal business.’

She didn’t want to ask the question that burned her lips, because she had guessed the answer already. She just wouldn’t believe it until he confirmed it.  

Boss was pretending not to notice her as she stood there, but the next time he lifted his eyes he saw so much pain in her expression that he allowed himself another sigh. He leaned forwards as though he were about to sermon a small child.

‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ Hegemony let out. She could feel the rage creeping hotly up her throat. She would’ve accepted any other girl – a girl that she wasn’t particularly fond of, that she hadn’t taken under her wing and personally educated in the art of sex work. A girl who didn’t have an enormous potential of emotionally ensnaring any human being that she approached. 

‘He was never yours, Hegemony.’

She turned in whirl of black braids, striding out of the office, out of the Inn, out into the darkness of Sector 6.  

  
•

10:21pm [Sender: Chimera] Hey, Gem. Boss just told me that Genesis wants to book me? I just wanted you to know that I’m not doing it. I expressly told him I wasn’t interested last time I saw him, so I don’t know why he’s doing this.

10:41pm [Sender: Chimera] Please pick up.

10:55pm [Sender: Chimera] Are you not coming to the Bee tonight? Harmony said you weren’t picking up her calls either.

11:15pm [Sender: Chimera] Gem?? I’m worried.

11:16pm [Sender: Hegemony] Just do it.

11:16pm [Sender: Chimera] It isn’t worth the money if it’ll make you unhappy.

11:17pm [Sender: Hegemony] Fuck him. Do the bloody booking. Wring him dry.

11:17pm [Sender: Chimera] Gem…

11:19pm [Sender: Hegemony] I don’t want your pity. Just grab your fucking balls and do it, and stop whinging at me.

11:20pm [Sender: Chimera] I don’t want this to ruin everything.

11:32pm [Sender: Chimera] Gem?

11:45pm [Sender: Chimera] I love you.

11:55pm [Sender: Chimera] Is there anything from his flat you want me to steal?

11:56pm [Sender: Hegemony] Lol. Maybe that collar I gave him. Paid good money for that. Be nice to get it back. And maybe some cigarette packets. Now fuck off and go work.

12:15am [Sender: Hegemony] Love you too.

•  
  


Aeris was fully prepared to go into Genesis’s flat and outright refuse him there and then. That’s what she had come up to do, anyway. She stepped out of the elevator and into the corridor. She was half afraid of not remembering which door was his – and then she saw one of the doors was ajar. There was a smell of incense and wine drifting out and permeating the corridor. Gulping nervously, she headed towards it.

She knocked on the door as she stepped into the entrance.

‘Genesis? It’s me.’

 A deep voice resonated from within – _come in._ She took off her boots in the entrance and made her way to the living room.

He was sitting on the couch, books open and wine bottles standing on the coffee table before him. One hand held a wineglass while the other poured red wine into it – Aeris noted the second full glass on the coffee table, surely his own. He was still wearing the fitted white trousers from his ceremonial uniform, along with a loose shirt. The cravat was undone, collar gaping open over his collarbones, and his red blazer was draped rather disgracefully over the back of the couch, spilling golden tassels and thin golden ropes. Aeris took a breath.

‘I thought I told you last time we saw each other,’ she said. ‘I don’t want this. This whole formality – you paying me, me providing whatever you want – it’s just awkward for me, OK?’

He turned to look at her, lifting the glass he’d poured for her. His hair fell across his face in disheveled spikes, his cheeks a rosy red.

‘Come here and drink with me, Aeris. That’s all I ask,’ he said. His voice carried that familiar lilt that told her just how much he’d had to drink before she stepped through the door.

‘At this rate I’m going to start thinking you can’t be around me unless you’re drunk,’ Aeris chided him. She took the glass from him, remaining standing. He leisurely let his eyes trail down the red dress she was wearing. The way those electric blue eyes slithered up to catch hers again made her belly clench.

‘How could one contemplate such magnificence and remain sobre?’ he said.

Aeris smirked. ‘Oh, please.’

There was of course a tiny part of her which was completely delighted at the flattery. But he was drunk, she reminded herself – he was completely drunk, and just like with his friends, he was probably doing this just to take his mind off of what was troubling him. And whilst normally she didn’t mind men using her body to bury all their sorrows, she didn’t want this relationship to morph into something like that. Something meaningless and self-serving. She’d much rather have him tell her about his sorrows than plant them between her legs.

Aeris perched herself on the couch’s armrest next to him. She was acutely aware that the last few times they’d spoken over the phone, she’d been saying things like _cock_ and _grinding_ and _cum_ and he’d been purring _tell me again_ and _did it feel good_ and _what did it taste like._ While it was one of the precious few good things that came out of bedding Sephiroth – being able to tease Genesis mercilessly about it – it wasn’t exactly a good conversation starter. Heart pounding, she crossed her legs and tried to bring up a more politically correct topic than, _so is it me you want to be intimate with, or Sephiroth? Or both?_

‘I saw you at the march today,’ she said. ‘I’m… not sure if I should congratulate you.’

He sighed, then reached to clink his glass against hers. ‘You are the first person I’ve spoken to today who hasn’t automatically commended me. Thank you for that.’

He was leaning towards her a little. She looked down at the bright red crown of his head as his shoulder brushed her thigh.

‘It was disgusting, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘They decorated me for killing the beating heart of a nation. Marched me through the streets to hail the deicide like the godless bastards that they are. Because that’s the pinnacle of this career, apparently. Stab a god through the heart and then perhaps – _perhaps_ you will earn their respect.’

Aeris frowned, trying to pick some sense out of his rambling. She looked down at the books on the table to see if there might be any clues. A beautiful parchment scroll was rolled out along the width of the table, displaying inkwork of some kind of winged serpent. She reached forwards, set down her glass and picked up one of the books. Wutain calligraphy dripped down the pages, gorgeous and indecipherable.

‘What happened out there?’ she asked softly.

He leaned forwards, elbows on his knees betraying his exhaustion. He sipped at his wine, holding the glass loosely with his fingertips around the rim as he thought of what to say. Then he gave a short laugh, bringing his free hand to his face.

His shoulders were trembling. Aeris bit her lip, all restraint forgotten as she realized he might be crying. She put the book on the table, then slid a hand over his back.

‘Hey, hey.’

‘Crisis, I’m sorry,’ he sighed, trying to straighten up again. ‘You’re here for barely five minutes and I’m already spoiling your evening – ’

Feeling a lump in her throat, Aeris reached over to give him an awkward hug around the shoulders. He moved in response, and she slid down into his lap for more comfort, hugging him tightly around the neck. He wound his arms around her waist, spreading wetness across her throat as he buried his face in her hair.

After a few seconds his grip on her loosened, and she took the cue to draw back.

 ‘I’m sorry,’ the redhead said again.

‘Don’t apologize,’ Aeris told him.

She moved away so that she was sitting next to him instead, giving him space. Then she picked up her glass, desperate to lighten the mood somehow. She sipped at her drink, grimaced as cheap acidity spread through her mouth.

‘Gaia, where did you get this wine?’

Genesis glanced at her distractedly. ‘What?’

‘The wine. It’s terrible.’ She grinned at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice how hard she was trying. ‘I thought you were a known fundamentalist when it comes to the finer things in life.’

‘I’m not sure I gave a damn when I bought it,’ Genesis said. ‘Nobody buys this particular chateau for the quality.’

He picked up his own glass. The wine swiveled around in the bowl, leaving an oily sheen along the crystal walls as it went.

‘Getting drunk on cheap wine in the middle of the night was a habit I developed during my first months in Midgar,’ he said. ‘Not the greatest habit to hold onto, but there you are.’

‘It’s not exactly a friendly city,’ Aeris said. ‘I never really understood people who choose to move here, when I’ve been wanting out my whole life.’

He afforded her a smile. ‘Different lives, different goals. You want to serve in the world’s largest and most prestigious army, you have to come here.’

‘When did you enroll?’

‘When I was fifteen. Same year I moved here.’

Aeris vaguely recalled the fact that he’d known Sephiroth since they were fifteen.

‘I guess being around Sephiroth all of a sudden meant having to subject your mind to some serious damage,’ she said companionably.

Genesis looked at her. The reddened rims of his eyes made the blue irises stand out even more.

‘You’re pretty close to the mark,’ he said. ‘And I was jealous. I was so pathetically jealous of him. The more I admired him, the more jealous I became.’

‘Trust me, he’s got nothing on you,’ Aeris told him.

The flattery didn’t seem to reach him. ‘It’s kind of you to say so, but you can’t deny that Sephiroth commands admiration in all that set eyes on him, whether you’re a friend or foe,’ Genesis insisted. ‘And it’s impossible to get rid of the image of him once you’ve spent time with him, whether you’ve fought alongside him or simply said hello from across a corridor. The thought that this superior entity is actually allowing you some sort of attention, admitting you into his exclusive circle, sacrificing time only for you – ’

‘Yeeeah, I think you might be over-glorifying him a tiny bit, don’t you?’ Aeris said. Genesis only smiled at her.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Goddess, hasn’t that been a lesson to learn. But I couldn’t help it. I still can’t. When I came to Midgar I had the objective of toppling him – not becoming this _mockery_ of a Soldier, hopelessly infatuated by his goddamned legend and the prestige of being associated to it.’ He balled his free hand into a fist, eyes lost among the Wutain books. ‘You know, for the longest time I was nothing when I wasn’t associated to him. He’s the only reason I attained any kind of identity in this place, and sometimes I can’t – _fucking_ stand it. Because on the one hand I wanted nothing more than to _become_ him, and on the other there was this person I was trying to get away from, this _past self_ that I completely took for granted, that I smothered and tossed aside because nothing mattered more than becoming either Sephiroth himself, or a person worthy of him.’

He was breaking open in front of her and Aeris had no idea what to say. She took in his drunken rambling, wondering if anyone had ever even glimpsed this rich emotional depths he must keep hidden behind his glamour. She’d snaked an arm around his shoulders as he spoke, fingers drifting up and coaxing his hair back in a gesture that said, _I’m here_. _I’m listening._

‘And what is that?’ he ploughed on. ‘What is it to be ‘worthy of him’? I’ll tell you what it is.’ He was pointing his finger at the table now, as though he were having this conversation with his age-old Wutain parchment rather than Aeris. ‘It’s throwing yourself away. It’s dragging yourself through hell, doing things you never thought you’d be capable of. And for the sake of what? A fucking handshake?’

‘He’s given you far more than that,’ Aeris said softly, though she wanted nothing more than to commiserate. ‘You’re his friend.’

‘His friend,’ he echoed with another of his cynical smiles. ‘If you only knew the bloody extents of self-sacrifice I’ve gone to, for that friendship. What I did back then, just to gain a _sliver_ of respect from that man.’

He tilted back his head, swallowing the last dregs of his wine. Then he looked down at his empty wineglass, turning it this way and that, leaving fingerprints on the crystal bowl.

‘I know for a fact that he respects you,’ Aeris said. ‘Especially after today.’

‘Yes. He does,’ he muttered. ‘But when I look over my shoulder, I see all the dead things littering the path. The carcasses of things I never allowed myself to even look at, let alone love. Just for the sake of that. Some empty validation. Some empty fucking friendship.’

There was a small silence. Aeris cast around desperately for some kind of reassurance, completely at a loss as to how to soothe him.

Then he said, so quietly that she wasn’t sure she heard him right; ‘It’s not enough.’

‘We all do silly things for love,’ was the best line she could come up with.

He looked at her disbelievingly, like he was offended that she’d use that platitude on _him_ of all people.

‘I doubt your silliness involved cultural genocide,’ he railed her.

‘Well. No. It didn’t,’ Aeris squeaked. Then she shook her head. ‘Sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.’

To her surprise, Genesis was smiling. And then he actually laughed.

‘”We all do silly things for love”,’ he echoed her.

‘Hey, stop it,’ Aeris protested. ‘I’m trying my best, here – ’

‘No but you know what’s ridiculous?’ he said. ‘You’re right. You’re entirely right. That is my whole entire problem. Doing silly things. For love.’

He reached for an umpteenth wine bottle, turned slightly to offer her a refill.

‘So tell me,’ he said. ‘Aeris the flowergirl. What’s the worst thing you’ve done for love?’

She thought for a moment, watching the rich black liquid gather in her crystal glass. She thought of her biological mother. Of Elmyra. Those were the people she loved most, and Gaia, what she wouldn’t do for them. What she hadn’t already done for them. The lies she’d told Elmyra. The lies she would probably keep on telling her in the future. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

She reached up and unwound the materia from her hair. Then she handed it to Genesis. He let it roll into his palm, holding it there as he felt the pure energy radiating from it.

‘The worst thing I’ve done for love,’ said Aeris, ‘probably involves that.’

‘Why?’ Genesis asked. ‘What is it?’

She wondered how much to tell him. He’d been so painfully honest with her. But if she went into the details – the beliefs she had about her mother’s life energy being somehow tied to this materia, and how maybe she wouldn’t have died if Aeris hadn’t searched the labs for it before they escaped – she wouldn’t be able to make it without crying. And as wantonly as Genesis was behaving, she still didn’t want him to see her cry.

‘I don’t know what it is,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to use it. What it’s for. My real mother gave it to me and as far as I know, it’s an ancient relic, completely priceless and completely useless in my hands. All I do is worry about losing it.’

‘What is there to feel guilty about? You’re only safeguarding it.’

‘I… accepted to do something I should never have done, just so my mother would know that it was in safe hands. I know I’m meant to use it. Seek out what it is. I guess I just – I feel like an imposter for carrying it around like I deserve such a huge inheritance. Sometimes I feel like I should just bury it with her where it belongs.’

Genesis looked at her then, like he knew the feeling all too well. He reached up to fix it back into her hair, lithe fingers threading through the plump base of her braid.

‘And here I was, thinking I’d hear about your many heartbroken lovers,’ he said.

‘Oh, well if you want to get into _that_ ,’ Aeris started with a laugh, and they segued into more comfortable territory, Aeris telling him about lovestruck clients that she had had to manipulate, Genesis telling her about his many failed romances. Wine was chugged, candles were lit. Then there came a moment where Aeris began to nod off as she listened to him, her body all hot and fuzzy from the wine and the sight of him looking at her and talking to her like they had known each other for years. That ball of heat in her belly became the centre-point, the only thing she was aware of for a few seconds, and when she opened her eyes again he was sliding his arms behind her shoulders and under her knees. He picked her up, holding her against him bridal-style and her breath hitched in surprise, arms wrapping around his shoulders automatically.

‘My apologies for waking you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to get trapped between you and that solid armrest. Your body might be very comfortable, but the armrest is not.’

 Aeris laughed, too groggy with wine and sleepiness and the closeness of him to protest. Then he murmured, ‘My bed will be more comfortable if you want to sleep,’ and that forgotten arousal pulsed a deep red in her belly. She held on tighter, breathing in his heady scent. Then he knelt on his four-poster bed, propping her against the pillows. Giddy with the discovery of this new territory, Aeris pulled at the sheets, basking in the sweet flowery scent that wafted from between them. Genesis went to turn off the lights and bring in one of the candles, placing it on the bedside table. Then he lay back against the pillows beside her with a groan of satisfaction. He cast out an arm, and she accepted the invitation, cuddling closer to him. Her head rested against his shoulder, the sleepy search for comfort overriding proper form as her body instinctively curled around him. He closed a hand over her shoulder, and she smiled at the gesture.  

‘Genesis?’ she asked.

‘Yes?’

‘Why didn’t you just call me up? You didn’t have to go through the Bee just to have a drink with me.’

His fingers played on her naked shoulder for a moment.

‘I didn’t… really know how to invite you here, alone, without it being inappropriate.’

‘Why would it be inappropriate?’

‘Aeris,’ he said on a smile. ‘You seem intent on forgetting about your boyfriend.’

‘Oh.’ She was almost surprised that the issue hadn’t been cleared up yet. ‘Zack’s been my best friend since we were kids. We… decided to tell people we were a couple as an alibi for my nights at the Bee, but we’re actually still just friends. More like brother and sister than anything else.’

She felt the line of his jaw pressing against the top of her head, like he was looking down at her.

‘I find that difficult to believe, seeing the way he talks about you,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Aeris said with a wince. ‘It’s been a bit weird, but we’re slowly fixing things.’

‘Hmm.’

The hum vibrated deliciously in his chest. It was difficult to feel guilty about anything when he was _so comfortable._

‘Aeris?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you for tonight.’

‘No need to thank me.’ She smiled. ‘I know I’m probably not the best person for you to talk to, but – ’

‘No, you are,’ he murmured sleepily. ‘You’re perfect.’

She smirked. ‘ _How?_ ’

‘Similar wavelengths,’ Genesis said vaguely. ‘Hmph. Ask me in the morning.’

Aeris laughed. He moved so that he was lying face-to-face with her, both of them getting comfortable. Then as the silence settled, she began to drift closer to sleep. Except there was something prickling her back – something uncomfortable, wrenching her away from the boundary of unconsciousness. She reached back, feeling clumsily for her bra clasp and struggling to undo it.

A warm weight slid along her waist. Genesis reached around her body, fingers finding her bra clasp straight away.

‘Allow me,’ he said, and he unclasped it in one deft movement.

The grip of her bra fell away. She looked up at his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded and coppery with exhaustion, and he was wearing a small smile. It almost looked shy, which wasn’t like him at all. He gently coaxed her bra straps down her arms, and she shivered as goosebumps pricked her skin. Then he slid a finger into the cleavage of her dress, feeling for the solid bridge between both cups. He hooked a finger around it, then dragged the bra up.

The underwire brushed her nipples on the way up, and she bit her lip, thighs rubbing together. He tossed the bra away, then placed his hand on her waist again, fingers spreading out almost possessively. Aeris arched towards him without thinking, sighing as heat writhed in her body.

She was trying to line up the words in her head to explain how she didn’t want him to pay for this, how if this happened at all then it was just him and her enjoying each other for the sake of it – but then he kissed her, palming her breast through the flimsy red fabric of her dress, and the words all fell apart again.

‘You taste like wine,’ Genesis breathed against her mouth.

She smiled. ‘So do you.’

•

The tears were streaking down Hegemony’s face as she wandered across the garbage labyrinth of the slum Sectors; she hadn’t even kept track of where she was. She was struggling so hard not to give in to blind jealousy, to a base hatred that Chimera hardly even deserved. But how was she supposed to keep a clear head, when she had no idea what the hell she felt for anyone involved in this mess – how was she supposed to be fair, to be _fair_ , when no one around her seemed to respect her in the slightest?

She thought of his skin, of her bright little eyes, of his expression when he’d throw back his head and give himself to the abandon of climax – and she ground her teeth against the yell that threatened to rip out of her throat, grabbing her guns and aiming up at the plate so far above her, out of reach. 

She imagined them entwined, and pulled the trigger, again, again, _again_.

•

Genesis would never have admitted it to her, but one thing that had thrilled him about their arrangement in the beginning was the idea that he’d be able to bed a woman that Sephiroth had touched. Curiously, he tested the idea to see if it yielded the satisfaction he’d anticipated. His fingertips traced skin where Sephiroth’s hands had been, delicate places that Sephiroth had sunk his teeth into. (No – Sephiroth never used that shapely mouth of his for anything else than scorn. She had told him that much.) He pulled the ribbon out of her hair, unraveling her braid and suddenly it was very difficult to imagine anyone else as he watched the thick chestnut curls tumbling down her shoulders and framing her pale, plump breasts. They made quick work of her dress after that, and when she straddled him, her loose hair flowed down her back like a great glistening net, tickling his waist. She pinned his wrists against the mattress as she began grinding against his erection – he would never have thought her to be so eager, and he gasped in delight, head back, Adam’s apple straining. When she leaned over him, the sweet-smelling net of her hair caressed either side of his torso and he tried to think of it as snow, as white silk, imagining that the breaths that escaped her were the ragged breaths of a man that he could never have, that he could never _be_ …

Perhaps a while ago, he would’ve appreciated the pretense. He would’ve had her tie a blindfold around his eyes and let her have her way with him, playing make-believe as he always did. But he found that he didn’t want to make love to a phantom. Not tonight. She didn’t deserve to be ignored for the sake of a man who had already made him commit so many follies. He opened his eyes, carded his fingers through her hair. Brought her down to kiss her and inhaled her earthy scent almost defiantly.

When he penetrated her, she opened her mouth against his and made the most delicious strangled little sound. He thrust again and it turned into a moan, and she wound her arms around him as he bucked his hips against her, both of them holding each other as close as they could.

She was here for him, and only him. She had chosen to give herself to him, despite all good sense. He wanted to feel the weight of that decision, to appreciate it. He locked his arm around her waist and overcame her easily, coaxing her down on the mattress beneath him. He looked down at her face – really looked at her. She was the only person in this room. The only one with whom he was sharing this, whatever this was. There was nobody else.

Goddess, she was so beautiful.

Her hands came up to his face as he planted his own on either side of her head. And as they moved in perfect synchrony she frowned up at him, moss-green eyes full of something like pleasure-clouded concern. Then he noticed there were pearls of water glistening on her collarbones, on her cheeks – they slid with the movement, tracing glittering paths down her skin. It was only when her fingers smudged the wetness over his cheekbones that he realized he was crying.

Her forearms came around the back of his head and she pulled him down to meet her, kissing him, salt residue spoiling her taste. There was a word on her tongue – _Don’t_ – but he only buried his face in her neck so she’d stop looking at him like that.

 _Don’t,_ she whispered in his ear, and he wished she wouldn’t, because it brought to mind so many memories – the pain, the fear, the feeling of inadequacy but _Don’t cry, it gets better, trust me -_ a hand extended, feline eyes flashing, and the sudden uplifting feeling of something like disembodiment, or love –

He went very still. Closed his eyes, shook away the intrusion.

‘Do you want to stop?’ Aeris asked, winding her fingers tenderly through his hair.

He kissed her neck.

‘No,’ he whispered. ‘I’m alright.’

• • •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The poem that Genesis quotes is an extract of Baudelaire's "Une Charogne". I fiddled with the 'official' translation a bit because I never agree with his English translations.  
> \- In case you didn't recognise anything, I essentially borrowed the whole 'guilt about killing the Leviathan' thing from my 'Dragons and Daughters' drabble and extrapolated it more.  
> \- I'm sure there was something else to mention. Will check again later, because these massive chapters are bitches to edit. :'D


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said on my tumblr, I'm trying to get this story done by the end of September. I'll keep publishing chapters as I plough on, but you may encounter minor continuity errors that will be fixed up when the whole story is done! (Very small stuff, like dates and small conversations that didn't contain the right foreshadowing etc.) If you'd like to stop reading and only read once it's done and polished up, I wouldn't mind at all. As long as you let me know what you think either way! <3

• • •

Aeris never tires of seeing true dawn seeping through the windows, gradually gaining intensity. For now it’s a dim, sluggish white, pulling every colour in the room towards the same uniform colour so that she feels embedded in an elaborate icing-sugar sculpture.

There is a sweet ache in her belly and she feels it grow when she looks at the man lying next to her. He’s on his side, long arms and legs tucked around himself like he never quite got used to sleeping in a bed this big. Aeris lets herself look at him. His hands are balled in fists even as he sleeps. She finds herself imagining what he might’ve looked like, stepping into Midgar for the first time, untamed and ungroomed by the corporation that owns both of their lives. Pollen from a distant countryside still clinging to his hair, body still lean and gangly from that last growth spurt. She wonders if he still writes home. If he gets as homesick as she does, for a place that actually exists rather than an imagined village somewhere in the snowy North.

She asks him over breakfast, about where he was before he came here. She watches him cutting peaches, eyes glazing over as he stares down at the fleshy golden slices dripping juice down his fingers.

‘It’s a place you’ve probably never heard of,’ he says. 

‘Do you think I don't know anything about the world outside of Midgar?’ Aeris asks him. ‘The people in the slums, some of them are from all around the world, you know. Some of them came here looking for riches and found only dirt and rags and sealed doors instead, but that doesn’t mean that was all they’ve ever known. I spent all my childhood listening to their stories. Practically got a map all drawn out up here.’

She touches her temple and he gives her the kind of look that she’s used to getting from wise old men who shake their heads at her and find her innocence ‘charming’.

‘Can you place Banora?’ he asks her.

She frowns down at her bowl of cereal, trying to summon any memories of the name. The only one that appears with any persistence is the damned apple juice label, so she smiles and says, ‘Sorry, apart from the juice… oh!’ An image, a young man telling her of a place way down south where the Lifestream is so close to the surface that all the wells carry whispers, and all the trees carry fruit of a rather peculiar nature. She tells this to Genesis, and he smiles at her fantastical interpretation of a place he knows so well.

‘It’s not quite as romantic as you make it sound,’ he tells her. ‘Lots of farmers, lots of poverty and superstition. And not to mention, plainclothes ShinRa informants occupying every street to make sure the townsfolk aren’t making their own profits from the richness of Lifestream simmering beneath the earth.’

‘Were you not happy there? she asks him, and again he pauses and weighs his words before speaking.

‘It’s not the easiest question to answer,’ he says.

‘Did you have a farm there?’ she says.

‘I did.’

‘Don’t farms mean open stretches of fertile soil and trees and a harvest to watch over? Surely that must’ve brought you _some_ measure of happiness.’

He smiles at her again and says, ‘My family did own several orchards which I daresay never quite made me _un_ happy.’

The word _orchards?_ bursts out of her mouth, and she gazes up at him with such wide twinkling eyes that he goes on, surprising himself as he willingly describes a place he hasn’t spoken of in years. She listens, mind full of silver arching trees and birdsong and wide open horizons.

‘I do confess,’ he says after having added far too many qualities to a place he never appreciated, ‘there is one thing I miss. The freedom of walking out in a rain-sodden garden and seeing the flowers revel in all that water.’

Aeris closes her eyes and sees rain-slick rosebuds, tree bark darkened by the downpour. ‘In the slums,’ she says, ‘we make sprinklers and tap into the excess water that trickles down from the water-treatment plant. It’s the only way to nourish the flowers, unless they’re growing under a hole in the plate. Sometimes,’ she adds with a smile, ‘people miss the rain so much that they hang the sprinklers up over a whole street, or climb all the way up to the plate pipelines to pierce holes in them. That way we get our own little spots of rain from time to time before Upworld technicians patch the holes up again.’

Genesis leans on his elbows, looking at her fixedly. ‘You know, I’ve been to the slums so many times, but I’ve never seen a single flower,’ he says. ‘I’ve been thinking – there are places that we aren’t allowed to venture into, whole sectors that our superiors warn us against. Maybe they just don’t want us to see how slummers can grow flowers far better than we can.’

He doesn’t go any further, but Aeris sees that curious glint in his eye and understands full well. For a moment she feels almost nauseous at the idea of someone who’s served ShinRa for so long stepping into her church. But the memories of how very sincere he had been with her last night come flooding back, and she can see the conflict, the anguish and regret that had been written all over him.

‘If I lead you to my garden, you have to promise to keep it to yourself,’ she tells him. Her eyes are downcast, her hands cold and clammy with the fear of being so open. But he reaches across the kitchen counter and takes her hands in his, holding her in a firm grip.

‘You forget, I have already made that promise,’ he says. ‘Your secrets are safe with me.’

She turns her head, affords him a shy, tentative smile.

‘And yours are safe with me,’ she says.

• • •

They travel down by train, Genesis wearing casual attire so as not to draw attention to himself, though his choice of fur-lined coat to brave the cold weather isn’t exactly the most discreet. She wonders at the fact that he didn’t even consult any sort of timetable before joining her on the trip. Sitting in plush First Class seats, she breaks away from the window to ask him, ‘Don’t you have any more work to do now that the war is over?

‘Well, they’ve given us some reprieve as a reward for winning over their long-time enemy,’ he explains. ‘So I’m free for a while. ShinRa still has an empire to maintain, however. I might stay grounded for a moment, but I’ll most likely get snapped up again for international missions soon. Not to mention, the president probably wants us to deal with Avalanche a little more permanently, now that we’re free to pursue them.’

Aeris twists her hands in her lap, feeling the necklace between her breasts like a tiny icicle.

It gets harder and harder to ignore the topic as she leads him through the villages and junkyard mazes. There are posters and graffiti everywhere, hurling out the word _AVALANCHE_ and all their anti-ShinRa slogans. Slapdash messages about eugenics with the word spelled differently each time, warnings of the Planet’s waning health, battle records of dead Wutains and dead Soldiers per famous battle (always thoroughly unequal). Aeris all but forgets her anxiety concerning whether they might bump into Hegemony in the face of all these reminders of her allegiance. Genesis must be used to seeing them if he’s been on missions down here, but his gaze still lingers on some of them, as though his interest in them might’ve been rekindled somehow. There are also posters depicting Sephiroth with all sorts of aberrations sprayed over his face each time, and Aeris bites her lip. She steals a glance at her companion, only to find him grinning.

When they get to the church, Aeris is horrified to see a big wordy manifesto nailed to the door. She goes to tear it down, feeling the huge rusty nails as keenly as if they’d been planted in her own chest, but Genesis stops her so that he can read it first.

‘I wonder where they first got these notions,’ he says, pointing at one of the paragraphs. Aeris steps closer, squinting to try and find where he’s pointing, so he reads out to her: ‘”Of the many things the Company is guilty of, our chief concern as citizens of Midgar should be that this Company is capable of torturing their own foot soldiers, of putting whomsoever should be so foolish to join them through ignominious hell, in order to obtain the weapons they need for their quest to extinguish all life and opinion but theirs. Soldiers are monsters bearing the sins of the Company they serve in their very DNA. They are mutilated and cursed creatures who are trapped in the lies that the Company spins them, so that they might not turn their power against their own creators...”’  

Aeris has gone very white by the time he stops reading. ‘Let me just rip it down,’ she says hastily, but he only knocks his fingertip against the last sentence.

‘Mutilated and cursed creatures,’ he repeats softly. ‘See, that’s what irks me. We aren’t getting pulled apart on an operating table. What we go through is a series of Mako immersions, which are perfectly legal. And while yes, Mako modifies your genetic structure, that information is out in the open for anyone to find. So what are they talking about, exactly, if they don’t mean Mako?’

Aeris watches him, her head suddenly filled with images of him getting pushed down into a tub of Mako like some kind of baptism. There are things resurfacing that she’d rather not remember; glowing tubes in Hojo’s lab, filled with all sorts of creatures which she always tried very hard not to look at too closely. ‘I’ve heard of Mako immersions,’ she says. ‘I didn’t think they were used for anything particularly positive. How do they work, exactly?’

He tilts his head. ‘When you’re physically ready to go up a rank, you take a month off to allow for your transition. You’re put in an immersion tank full of pure Mako for up to two days, and you spend the rest of the month recovering and receiving different kinds of treatments to avoid all harmful secondary effects. So technically you only go through three – one to enter Third Class, one for Second, and one for First. But they all have very powerful effects, and you regularly get top-up shots of Mako to stabilize your body as it goes through all its changes. It’s an entirely consensual process, done only to consenting adults who are at a peak physical state. What’s _illegal_ is genetic tampering before birth. Selective breeding among human beings. Eugenics. Which ShinRa absolutely does not do.’ Lowering his chin, he adds, ‘At least, not to my knowledge.’

Aeris never imagined that the specimens in Hojo’s Mako tubes would ever get out alive. It’s like in all those stories she heard of people who fell in Lifestream leaks: they never really had much to tell afterwards about the experience, on account of being either dead or half mad. And yet here Genesis stands, speaking of Mako immersion as one would speak of a strange and slightly gooey bath.

‘What’s it like?’ she asks.

‘It’s…’ Genesis smiles vaguely. ‘It’s horrendously painful, of course, both during and after. But if you can get past the pain, it’s actually quite beautiful. You know when you’re submerged in water, you hear your own heartbeat and this dull sort of pressure on your ears? In Mako, that pressure is laced with an ethereal kind of swan song.’

‘I wouldn’t expect anything different from taking a bath in soul juice,’ Aeris says, and he snorts.

‘Technically they’re only bits and pieces of souls,’ Genesis tells her. ‘They’re more like the dregs at the bottom of a tea cup than real, composite beings.’

‘Not always,’ Aeris says. She can’t help it – she’s too used to correcting people on their knowledge of the Lifestream. He looks at her with keen interest, so she goes on; ‘Some souls have too big of a hold on their old life to let themselves scatter within the Lifestream.’

‘Isn’t that one of the theories behind how summons are formed?’ Genesis says. ‘Regarding human beings, though… I’ve never heard of a regular person remaining intact for any longer than a few days after their death.’

Aeris looks at the manifesto, dog-eared and covered in dirty hand prints as it is. ‘I know someone who stayed for almost a decade,’ she says, and it’s like putting a foot on thin ice, broaching this subject with someone she’s only just beginning to trust. But she wants to trust him. She’s shared so much of herself with him already.

 ‘Who was it?’ Genesis prompts her gently.

She decides to stall, smiling up at him instead of answering his question. ‘If we keep this conversation up we’re going to be standing out here all day. Did you want to see my flowers, or not?’

The implicit demand for privacy is obvious enough. Genesis doesn’t press the issue any further, and turns away from the door.

‘Let’s go, then,’ he says.

‘No – they’re in here,’ Aeris tells him, laying a hand on the door again to mark her point.

Genesis looks at her, then at the broken down church. He’d noticed earlier as they approached that a single shaft of sunlight slanted down from a hole in the plate way up above them. As Aeris leads him inside, he’s about to make some comment about how oddly convenient it is, perhaps an act of the Goddess, that the plate should’ve been pierced just in the right place for a church to be illuminated. But the sight of the interior – the scattered church pews, the high pillars all painted red and blue from the stained glass windows, the dust glittering in the sunlight – it is all quite beyond irony or description.

The flowerbed lies where an altar should be, and Genesis feels goosebumps crawl up his forearms as he takes in the pagan beauty of a holy place overrun by flowers. He hardly hears Aeris shutting and locking the door behind them. When she takes his hand in hers to lead him down the aisle, he looks at how the sunlight catches the stray curls around her face and there is an ache in his chest, the same kind of ache he felt when stepping through crumbling Wutain temples dedicated to long forgotten gods.

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ she says, and he opens his mouth slowly, unable to shake away the stupor.

‘It is,’ he says. ‘What kind of flowers are those?’

‘Just weeds I collected and replanted,’ Aeris says. ‘I made up names for most of them, so you’ll probably not recognize that many.’

They come to the edge of the flowerbed, Aeris letting go of Genesis’s hand so she can crouch by the flowers and thread her fingers through their stems. She’s like a mother passing her hand through the hair of her children, and Genesis can’t help but smile as he watches her. There is energy here, he can feel it, though he can’t quite place its origin. It’s something he’s only rarely felt. Far more organic than the energy of Mako or materia. He sits down beside her on the edge of the broken planks, careful not to tread on the flowers.

‘Tell me their names anyway,’ he says, because he is far too fascinated by her to care for academic accuracy.

‘They’re all pretty self-explanatory. That’s gutter-vine,’ she says, pointing to a cluster of reddish leaves. ‘It makes a pretty good pigment for paint. That blue moss over there is glass-root. It keeps giving me trouble at the Bee, but I try to save as much of it as I can before the girls spray it to death. These tall ones over here are widow-weed, the seeds are very poisonous. It’s got a bit of a funny backstory, but you can probably guess it from the name. Oh, and you might’ve recognized these, they’re a strain of lilies...’

She’s walking among the flowers to show him the different types, treading carefully in little bald patches of dirt. He watches her moving in the sunlight, the materia in her hair glowing a soft snowy white.  There is some truth about her that seems to be screamingly obvious from all the information she’s given him already, but he still can’t quite put a finger on it. What he does know is that he’s rarely been so fascinated by someone – not since Sephiroth, and the idea that there _is_ someone as worthy of his wholehearted attention… it’s incredibly liberating. He never thought he’d be capable of casting Sephiroth aside, but now that he looks at her it doesn’t seem entirely impossible any more.

He extends an arm as an invitation. She walks over to him, takes his hand and slides down next to him, smiling as though she’s slightly embarrassed by how passionate she is. 

‘I know they’re just weeds,’ she says apologetically.

‘They’re just as worthy of nurturing as any other flower,’ he tells her as he draws her closer to him.

‘If you want to bring some back up with you, I can make you a bouquet,’ Aeris tells him, so he kisses her neck and says,

‘I’d much prefer to come down here to see them.’

She turns her head towards him and in the next moment he’s kissing her, robbing her of all thought as she kisses him back, head tilting this way and that. It’s hot and dizzying and she has no idea how much time passes before they break off, staying close enough to breathe against each other’s lips. Then he kisses her again and she’s lying back in the flowers before she realizes that she’s moved at all.

It’s almost familiar to her now, like some kind of homecoming, the feeling of his body against her. She’s never had that with her clients – their bodies were always all wrong against hers, like puzzle pieces that didn’t fit. They revel in each other’s presence for a moment, lying among leaves and sickly sweet pollen. Red streaks stain Aeris’s fingers as they brush against the flowers. Her eyes are closed, her skin warmed by sunlight. Genesis’s legs are tangled in hers and she can’t remember feeling so surrounded by tenderness and contentment.

She sifts his auburn locks between her fingers as she holds onto the back of his head. He nuzzles her neck as he moves against her and there’s something so endearing about his unselfconscious search for comfort. He becomes almost child-like in her arms, vulnerable, his cloak of glamour cast aside.

‘You never did tell me,’ he purrs. ‘Did my present end up being satisfactory?’

She smiles. ‘Very.’

He nestles himself between her thighs and she can feel the length of him against her leg. It’s a passive contact, inevitable with the position they’re in, but she’s still hyperaware of it. She shifts so that it can slot between her legs properly, and he growls into her neck.

‘What did you think about?’ he murmurs. ‘To pull yourself over the edge that first time?’

She squirms, mouth twisting shyly. ‘I can’t tell you that,’ she says. ‘I mean, would you tell me what you think about?’

He frowns. The effect of her words is almost instantaneous: he’s pulled back into the images that she fed him, Sephiroth looming over him and ripping the screams from his throat. For a moment it breaks their comfortable little spell.

‘Alright, alright,’ she says, having noticed his withdrawal. ‘I thought about you. If you must know.’

She watches him recover. It doesn’t take long at all for that smugness of his to return, his eyes glimmering as they search her face.

‘What was I doing, in your fantasy?’ he asks.

‘Well…’ While she tries to find the right words and eases into a stammering, giggly description, he slowly hitches her skirt up and pulls the band of her knickers aside. She’s still talking when he inserts a long, lithe finger into her. She can’t stop smiling, even as she anticipates the next move. 

‘What else?’ he purrs, running his fingertip slowly along the apex between her thighs. She tries to think but she’s melting in his grip, forgetting the details of her fantasy when her experiences with him are so real now. She manages to mention a couple of things, more clinically than descriptively, heart pounding at the idea that he’d actually do them just because she said so.

He takes what she’s given him and starts kissing his way down her body. She watches, not quite believing that this is exactly one of her fantasies come to life. He rains kisses down the insides of her thighs and she arches under him, almost trembling at how close he’s getting. Then he slides his hands down the curve of her back, kisses the sensitive spot between thigh and pubis. She swallows, feeling the heat of his arms closing around her, his long strands of red hair tickling her lower belly. When his mouth ghosts over her pubic hair, she closes her eyes.

His tongue finds the dips of her vulva and she digs her fingers into the soil, breathing in, breathing out. She’s unsure whether she’s excited or scared. It’s nice, at first, just nice and she can’t quite get herself in the zone because so many of her clients have slurped and sucked and nibbled at her down there in ways that have never been even slightly enjoyable. And she hates that work is the first thing she thinks about, invariably, even if this is _Genesis_ and his tongue is working in all sorts of delicious ways that aren’t even comparable to what she’s known. 

She tries to relax. This isn’t work, she reminds herself. His arms are wrapped firmly around her thighs as he licks her. Then his hands climb up her body, fingers closing over her nipples and she looks down at him – he’s watching her, electric blue eyes traveling over her face, gauging her reaction. He’s gentle, fingers flicking and circling and squeezing her nipples with just the right amount of pressure. She tilts her head back, her body racked with heat and little jolts of pleasure. But it’s never enough to push her over the edge.

They settle at the same rhythm for what feels like ages. Him alternating between long slow laps and smaller, pointed ones, her moaning and rocking her hips. She’s taking too long – he’s not going to keep going, is he? He’s going to get tired and give up. Especially with that pain of his. He keeps shifting every few minutes, as though to relieve that thorn in his side that he doesn’t seem to have gotten rid of. She can’t ask this of him, it’s not – it’s not going to work.

‘Sorry,’ she breathes. ‘I don’t usually – take this long, I – ’

Genesis hums against her and the vibration of it ripples right through her core. She tenses her thighs around his head, hands covering his own as they work on her nipples. She’s close – but the wave ebbs again, and she squirms beneath him, frowning as she tries to grapple for the fickle build-up.

‘Are you comfortable?’ she asks him.

Genesis hums again.

‘I don’t think I’m going to – you know,’ she sighs after a few more minutes. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t have to keep going, you can stop, I’m not – ’

Genesis gives her a firm lick that makes her shudder, and then another, and a series of them until she’s raising her hips to meet his mouth, forgetting all inhibitions. Her soil-specked fingers tangle in his hair and soon she’s breathing _don’t stop, keep going_ and the crest is just within reach. She looks down at him, and just the sight of him – the reminder that this is Genesis doing this to her is enough to pull her over the edge. It comes as a surprise, the fact that she’s allowing herself this in the presence of another person – she gives a little helpless cry, holding his head in place as she grinds against his tongue. 

Dancing lights, a pillowy weight settling over her bones. She’s practically fusing with the earth as she lets the pleasure roll over her, flattening her completely. She’s so scared that he’ll pull away while she’s still in the thick of it, but he doesn’t. He keeps his mouth against her, hot and heavy and constant until she can’t take it any more and breaks away in a twitch of the hips.

When she comes to he’s leaning his cheek against her thigh, watching her, shiny lips curved in a smile. She realises that she must’ve been making all sorts of stupid expressions and immediately brings her hands up to cover her face.

‘Please don’t look at me,’ she groans.

‘Why not?’ Genesis purrs. ‘You look beautiful when you come.’

Aeris’s breath hitches. She glances at him through her fingers and he’s biting his lip at her, not even trying to hide how much he’s enjoying the sight of her.

‘Where did you learn to do that?’ she mumbles. ‘I didn’t think there was a single man on this Planet who knew what to do down there.’

He climbs back up her body so he can kiss her on the forehead.

‘You’ll find that I am very talented with magic,’ he says, and she laughs. Then he waits a spell, as though mulling over his wording, before saying; ‘Thank you.’

‘What? What for?’ Aeris mumbles.

‘For bringing me here,’ he says. ‘For allowing me to give you this.’

She’s smiling so much by now that her cheeks should be falling off. She lifts her head, kisses the tip of his nose.

‘You’re welcome,’ she says.

‘Unless that was some extraordinary simulation, in which case your acting skills _definitely_ belong in the best theatre in Midgar,’ he adds, so she throws a clump of dirt in his face.

When they’ve stopped laughing, Aeris notices that Genesis has trouble buttoning up. He’s leaning to one side, the same side that he used to clutch. She watches his face, how he seems to frown a little every time he straightens up too fast. It makes her chest hurt to realize he might’ve been trying his hardest to ignore the pain just to give her the most pleasure he could.   

‘You know,’ she says, ‘going back to what we were saying before – there’s this homeless man down here that I've known for ages. He’s all wrapped up in this tattered black cape, and his eyes glow even stronger than yours do. Everyone says he fell into Mako – there are others in the slums like him, too, mostly scavengers who venture too close to the reactors. And he can’t talk, he can hardly move, he… he has pains everywhere.’ For that part she diligently stares down at her flowers. ‘I’ve tried everything to make his pain go away, but nothing works. Maybe...’

She doesn’t have the heart to continue. Genesis looks over at her, understanding what she left out. ‘Our treatment wipes out all harmful secondary effects,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry. It isn’t because of the Mako. Otherwise all of the Firsts would be having the same symptoms as me.’

She shouldn’t be giving him any hints as to what she might know – technically they’re still on opposing sides. But some wildly optimistic part of her, perhaps the same that’s responsible for her collaboration with Avalanche in the first place, hopes that he feels guilty enough about his own part in ShinRa’s affairs to eventually, maybe… see things the way she does.

Heart pounding, she blurts out, ‘What if Avalanche are right, though? What if ShinRa did something else to you than just Mako immersions?’

‘We’d know about it,’ Genesis says. His gaze slowly becomes fixed, staring down at the flowers as the idea drops into his mind like ink in water. ‘Surely we’d know.’

 

• • •

 

Aeris couldn’t stop gnawing on her lip as she made her way to the Bee. She was reliving the last conversation she’d had with Genesis as they headed to the station. Well, second from last – the very last conversation had involved him asking whether she was sure she wanted this relationship to remain unpaid, and her blushing and pushing him onto the platform with his wallet still open in his hand.

 _You’re dithering around, canceling your bookings and giving her false hopes,_ she’d told him as they walked through the junkyard maze. _If you don’t want to see her any more, then for Gaia’s sake, stop acting so indecisive and just buy her._  

He’d wrinkled his nose at her, said that wouldn’t exactly signal the end of a relationship. He’d explained that he had always been against the notion of a woman having a price as the whole transaction would imply. So Aeris had explained it to him. One symbolic payment to sever the ties with the Bee. Perhaps a small amount of guidance on his part to help her transition smoothly into Upperworld life. And that was it. It required only a small effort from him and would end up changing Hegemony’s entire life. Surely he could make the effort.

He’d bowed his head. Said he would ‘think about it’. But that was good enough for her – Aeris was beginning to know him well enough by now to know that he’d seriously consider it.

She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder as she came to the Bee. Not only was she hoping to see Hegemony wearing the kind of smile that would attest to Genesis making the right decision, but she knew Zack should be there too. He’d sent her texts while she’d been with Genesis, letting her know that he’d slept all the way through the march and that he’d see her once he had enough brain activity to be of any interest to her. She’d read the words in his voice, smiling up to her ears. Gaia, she couldn’t even remember when she’d last seen him. It felt like an entire age since they’d last hugged on Elmyra’s doorstep.

She nodded at the bouncers, made her way through the front doors. The bar opened up before her, dripping with bead curtains and cornered in by plush red couches full of clients and glitter-clad girls. Aeris’s heart pounced to her throat when she saw Gem deep in conversation with Harmony at the bar counter, her eyes wide and her hands drawing shapes in the air. She certainly didn’t seem to be in any kind of strop. Maybe Genesis had already made the offer, maybe she was so giddy about it that she had to share it straight away? With a slow, shaky exhale, Aeris went towards her instead of going upstairs to cover up her daytime face with her nighttime one. She needed to do this now – say hello, test the waters. Prolonging it would only make her more anxious.

She was right next to her in seconds. Gem looked at her and Aeris lifted her chin. She expected a pause, heavy with judgment and prickling with the shards of a broken friendship. But instead Gem reached out, grabbed her by the arm to pull her into the conversational circle.

‘OK, you’ve got to give me the facts here. How in the hell did you manage to catch Snow’s eye?’ she muttered.

Aeris stared. It took a moment for her mind to change tack. ‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘She’s waiting in Boss’s office for you. Snow. _Snow._ President’s mistress? Blue Dragon femme fatale? Ring any bells?’

‘I’m telling you, she likes women,’ Harmony said. ‘It’s as simple as that.’

Gem shook her head. ‘No. It _can’t_ be as simple as that. As I keep saying, I know that woman. I had a fucking – _scrapbook_ about her with newspaper clippings and everything. Every assassination story that involved a female escort with magical proficiency? That’s her. You can count on it. There’s a reason why there’s all sorts of conspiracy theories about her role in the President’s life, trust me. She never does anything without some kind of secondary motive.’ Here Gem glanced at Aeris. ‘There’s rumours that the Turks keep trying to hire her, but she prefers mercenary work. And there’s _so_ many stories floating around about where she comes from, too. Since she’s so good with magic, some people say she’s undercover Wutain royalty, out for revenge against ShinRa.’

Harmony held out her hands. ‘Or maybe she just wants to fuck? And you made up a fancy character in your head with a bunch of completely unrelated news articles.’

‘ _No,’_ Gem insisted, banging her shot glass on the counter. As usual Aeris watched their conversation, eyes bouncing from one to the other as though she were watching a ping pong match. Gem turned back to her again, black eyes bright. ‘You’ve got to tell me, Chime. Did you piss her off somehow? Are you in trouble?’

‘I – wait a second,’ Aeris said with a frown. ‘Is she really that much of a celebrity? At least enough for people to make scrapbooks about her?’

Gem leaned back with a small smile. ‘Ahh, don’t make me dig up my dark past like this. She’s not exactly a celebrity outside of the industry, but… well. She’s been in the game ever since I started out, so I was just projecting. You know, fantasizing about growing into the kind of woman she is.’

‘Alternating between sex work and assassinations?’ Harmony laughed. ‘Why am I not surprised.’

Gem threw out her arms. ‘Hey, what’s not to love?’

There was movement – a man approached Harmony, asking whether he could get her a drink. The girls abruptly broke their conversation off, Gem and Aeris moving away once it was clear that the man only had eyes for Harmony. As they moved further down the counter, Aeris saw the office door opening to admit a couple of men, and with a jolt realised that Boss was standing right there. In the next second he saw her and made a series of small gestures: a tap on the wrist, _you’re late,_ a thumb jerked towards the stairs, _go get dressed,_ then the same thumb jerked behind his shoulder, _get in here asap._

Aeris looked around at Gem, who had seen the exchange too.

‘Listen,’ said Aeris, desperately wanting Gem to stay on her side and therefore utterly unable to lie to her: ‘I’m not in any kind of trouble, don’t worry. I can’t tell you how we know each other. I wish I could. But I can’t right now.’

Gem seemed far too delighted by the response.

‘Shiva’s tits, you’re actually working with her,’ she murmured.

‘That’s not what I – ’

‘No no no, you go ahead,’ Gem said. ‘I just – I would _really_ love to hear how it goes. Anything you can tell me. Or anything I can do to help.’

‘I’ll put a good word in for you,’ Aeris told her friend, grinning at the notion of someone as intimidating as Gem having her own role models. Gem grabbed her hands on the counter.

‘That would be insane. But also amazing.’

For a moment there was no Genesis standing between them, no question of whether it was theft or fair game. Aeris nodded, promising that she would try her hardest to get Gem involved somehow. Then as she was already late upstairs, she said she should break away – Gem only encouraged her, bidding her good luck. Without thinking, Aeris stopped and took out the cigarette carton that she’d nicked from Genesis’s bedside table and held them out.

‘Here. For you.’

Gem looked down at them and slowly lost her smile. Aeris stood with the long shiny carton of Wutain cigarettes in her hand. It should’ve been obvious that this was the equivalent of dragging Genesis himself between them again. Aeris had only wanted to pile more good news on top of the rest.

When it was clear Gem wasn’t going to take them, Aeris retracted her arm a little.

‘Do you – do you not want them?’ Aeris stammered. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

‘I don’t want to think about that right now,’ Gem said, her tone flat. ‘Just keep them.’

‘OK. Um, are we – ?’

Gem gave her a little push. ‘Go on, go and organise the president’s assassination or whatever it is you're doing.’

The smile she gave Aeris wasn’t quite convincing enough to soothe her. Still, the two girls returned to their respective paths – Aeris up the stairs, Gem towards the bar.

•

When Aeris entered Boss’s office  in her usual lingerie-and-silk-robe regalia, she found Snow sitting on one of the chairs in front of Boss’s desk. She was wearing some kind of fur-lined cloak around the shoulders, her ample black hair falling down her chest in a jewel-encrusted braid. Boss looked at Aeris from his side of the desk like he’d been having trouble breathing all the while Snow had been there.

‘You certainly took your time,’ he said thickly, like he was embarrassed that Snow made a burly man like him so uneasy. Snow looked around at Aeris, dark eyes catching hers and almost making her flinch. She swept up from her chair, somehow managing to make each motion fluid and graceful, like she practiced dramatically getting up from chairs in her free time.

‘Shall we?’ she said, holding out a hand.

Aeris blinked. This night was just getting weirder and weirder.

‘Um,’ she stammered. ‘What – why are you here, exactly – ?’

‘I am here to check on your progress,’ Snow said. ‘For now, we can pretend that I am your client, until we are in your room.’

‘I don’t think anyone’s gonna buy that,’ Aeris said with a nervous grin. ‘You’re kind of well-known in here.’

Snow took her hand with an impatient sigh. ‘Just lead me upstairs. Then we can talk.’

               

Aeris did as she was told. Once out in the bar, everyone stared at them. Even in her usual get-up Aeris felt so small and mousey next to Snow and her goddamned cloak and jewels, it was ridiculous. She put her head down, making for the stairs to be out of everyone’s line of sight as quickly as possible. But Snow drew her back, snaked an arm around her waist as a clear claim. Aeris went bright red. One look at the bar yielded exactly the kind of scene she’d expected – Harmony, breaking away from her client to give Hegemony a meaningful look, like _see?_ And Hegemony, shaking her head with a tiny grin. At least she didn’t seem too mad.

 When they got to Aeris’s room, Snow looked around at the pink walls, the four-poster bed with its translucent pink curtains and white-painted wood, the flowers that lined the windows. She touched the petal-strewn wardrobe doors, rubbing her fingertips afterwards as though getting rid of dirt. Aeris clenched her teeth. It was kind of funny how someone that Gem idealized so much was such a pain in the ass to her. 

‘We entered into this arrangement together in September,’ Snow said. ‘It is now December. Your Boss has been giving Delaine regular reports, but Delaine does not deem it necessary to keep me in the loop. He is only interested in whether the relationship results in success.’

While she spoke, Aeris sat down on the bed, watching her. Snow took off her cloak, hanging it up on the pegs on the side of the wardrobe. She was wearing some kind of blue glittering dress beneath, a fashion that was very reminiscent of a particular culture. Aeris frowned, trying to remember where that cut came from.

‘How is the relationship going?’ Snow asked her.

‘It’s going,’ Aeris replied. ‘He asks for pain play, I provide. He hasn’t demanded an all-nighter yet, which would probably be the only way to stick him. And I’m only just beginning to be OK with the idea, myself, so the fact that it’s taking a while has actually been pretty beneficial for me, too.’

She said it to defend herself. Surely Snow was going to criticize her regarding how long it had been. Gaia, she hadn’t realised it had already been four entire months.

Snow only nodded. Aeris stared, fascinated by how the scale tattoo around her neck stretched when she moved her head around.

'Building a trusting relationship is one way of doing this, it's true,' said Snow. 'Though it does take time.’

She said down on the edge of the bed near Aeris, still keeping a distance between them. She seemed to be trying very hard to keep her tone neutral. Like she only had limited experience of stepping off her pedestal and talking with someone of a much lower social class than her. Aeris watched as Snow searched the air in front of her for a moment before speaking up again:

‘I will tell you the truth. I’m not here on Delaine’s behest,’ she said. ‘I’m here to offer you to make a plan of our own, if such a collaboration might interest you.’

Immediately Aeris’s curiosity was set ablaze. She thought of Gem’s description of the woman. _All those assassination stories…_ Her pulse quickened.

‘Um. Sure, yeah.’

Snow looked at her with those dark, intelligent eyes of hers. ‘I trust that your impression of Delaine is about the same as everyone else’s. He is power hungry, and entirely insatiable. If we do this for him, we will only be giving him more power – over the city, over this industry. Over us.’ She paused, placed her hands on her glittery blue lap. Aeris frowned at her dress, still trying to figure out where she’d seen that cut before. ‘I will need to go into detail for you to understand. Please excuse me. While he is grooming a girl like yourself, he will only ever show you what you stand to gain. Not the conditions you will have to live with if you want to keep those gains.’

‘I knew that when I accepted this assignment,’ Aeris said. ‘I’m not exactly new at this. I know not to trust the businessmen.’

Snow looked almost amused, like Aeris couldn’t possibly be anything else than naïve, however much she might protest it. Silently, Aeris seethed, but kept quiet so the damn woman could keep talking.

‘Let me make a parallel with my own situation,’ Snow said. ‘I immigrated to Midgar when I was quite young. At the time, for someone like me, honest work was difficult to find. Brothel work was all I found that offered acceptable living conditions. Except Delaine has had control over Upperworld brothels for a very long time. Through his brothel managers, he gathers things about you while you work in one of his places. Information. Conversations. Intimate details. And of course, he has lackeys who store it all for him, so it isn’t just a question of killing him and being done with it. If you try to leave his network or refuse one of his assignments, one of his lackeys will pull out the numbers. The amounts you owe him. All he’s ever helped you achieve, whether it’s your mortgage, your health insurance, your hospital bills. And they will pull it all out from underneath you, if you choose to do the wrong thing.’

Aeris nodded along, though she kept at the forefront of her mind that Snow was just as much a master manipulator as Delaine was. ‘So you’re stuck in his network?’ Aeris asked.

‘I have my own issues with the man, yes,’ Snow said. ‘But I wanted you to know that you will be just as stuck as I am, if you accept his help. If you accomplish this mission, and he offers you and your family all those things he promised.’

Aeris breathed out slowly. Again, there was that absurd desire to show this supposed expert that she wasn’t too green to cover her own bases. ‘I’m not relying entirely on him,’ Aeris said. ‘My client has been very generous. Technically I could gain all the things that Delaine is promising me from my client alone. I’m doing this for Avalanche more than for the prize – I mean, if Delaine’s as dangerous as you say he is then I could just give the blood directly to Avalanche and still gain the same things thanks to my client.’

Snow shook her head. ‘You are already in his game,’ she said. ‘Think of what he could reveal. Even if you choose to forego the middle man and give the blood to Avalanche – he could just hand you straight over to ShinRa to save his own skin.’

Aeris hunched over, leaning her elbows on her knees as she tried to think ahead of Snow. ‘So what are you saying, exactly?’

‘I want to help you,’ Snow said. Aeris wondered how long she’d practised saying that to make it sound even the tiniest bit authentic. ‘There’s a show I’m doing on New Year’s eve at the Intra Meum, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it.’

‘I’ve heard of it,’ Aeris snapped. It was one of Midgar’s biggest cabarets – Gem had worked there from time to time.

‘Good. So. Management has offered free tickets to the heroes of Soldier, as a way to celebrate the end of the war. I want you to come and work as hostess on the night of the show. That way, I can help you to finalise this mission which I’m sure is a terrible strain on you.’

Aeris took that stinging condescension into her stride, not letting herself falter as she tried to follow Snow’s true intentions. ‘So, as we’ll be collaborating, you think we’ll manage to get the blood on that particular night,’ Aeris said. ‘And then what?’

‘We hold it until Delaine accepts to drop our debts and destroys all the intelligence he’s gathered about the both of us,’ Snow said.

Finally, the penny dropped. It seemed absolutely crystal clear why Snow was allowing her saintly silk-clad bottom to rest on Aeris’s lowly slum bed. She just wanted to manipulate Aeris to better serve herself.

Aeris looked her plainly in the eye. ‘You’re asking me to hold onto something that could influence the fate of this entire city just for your sake? Just so you can walk away from Delaine?’

‘You forget, you are part of the game now, too,’ Snow said. ‘This isn’t just about me.’

Aeris shook her head. ‘Wouldn’t it just put us both in danger?’ she said. ‘What would stop Delaine from just hunting us down, if we held onto something like that? And Avalanche, too, since they’ve apparently got his back? And Sephiroth,’ she added, ‘since I don’t think there can be any scenario where we get the blood without him noticing somehow, especially if we’re rushing.’

‘There is one scenario,’ Snow said.

Aeris blinked at her. ‘Oh?’

Snow sat a little straighter, facing Aeris. ‘There is a gift that runs in my family,’ she said. ‘You must promise me to keep it to yourself, if I show you.’

The familiar expression made Aeris tilt her head curiously. ‘Sure,’ she said.

She watched as Snow lifted a jewelled hand and placed it on hers. Her skin was cold as ice. Aeris kept eye-contact, expecting some kind of sensation to start blooming. Snow’s eyes were so very black. They had such sharp corners. Everything about her, from her wide cheekbones to her shapely lips, seemed carved from ice. There was something… awfully beautiful about her. Gaia, she was fascinating to look at. Aeris leaned in without thinking, gazing at the starry pins that were slotted in Snow’s hair, how they sparkled in the dim lights. She had such gorgeous long hair. Aeris was beginning to feel an urge to touch her, to run her hands along that ice-cold skin, to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was so gorgeous. There was a lump forming in Aeris’s throat as she looked and looked at Snow – like an art amateur standing in front of a masterpiece, she felt close to tears, each path that her eyes took along the lines of Snow’s body moving her to inexplicable extremes.

Aeris shook her head. What? What was she doing? She tried to break away from Snow’s face, but there was just so much to marvel at.

‘Can you,’ Aeris gasped, practically unable to breathe from how much she wanted to press her entire body against the woman sitting in front of her – ‘Can you stop what you’re doing? Please?’

Snow closed her eyes, slid her hand away from Aeris’s. Slowly, the urges ebbed away, and Aeris found herself falling back into a simple rational wariness.

‘What the hell was that?’ Aeris said. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t – that wasn’t just me, was it?’               

‘It was an ‘Enticement’ spell,’ Snow said. ‘You were only under it for a few seconds, but within minutes, the victim will be quite maddened with sexual desire. If you pull them under properly, they will hardly have any self-awareness beyond the fact that they need to touch and worship you. And more importantly, they will hardly be able to remember what happened once they have resurfaced.’ Aeris nodded along, curiosity raging at the idea that this woman seemed to have the same ease around magic as she did. ‘I have it saved in an Enemy Skill materia for you,’ Snow went on. ‘If you choose to come to the New Year’s show as a hostess, I will lend it to you for the evening so that you can use it on Sephiroth.’

‘Sorry,’ Aeris said, ‘but why didn’t you lend me that materia back in September? I could’ve just used it and gone through with the mission straight away.’

Snow lifted an eyebrow. ‘I don’t lend something like that out without being able to control exactly when and how it’s going to be used,’ she said. ‘I am already showing you a great deal of trust by allowing you to use it at all.’

There was that condescension again, but Aeris was too curious to be wounded by it.

‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Aeris said slowly, ‘where are you from?’

Snow seemed taken aback by the question. ‘Why?’

‘I’ve just never met someone else who can perform magic without materia,’ Aeris said. Well. Except for Sephiroth and his magic-blocking capacities, but that was probably something to do with Soldier treatments.

‘Oh.’ Apparently, going off-script was enough for Snow’s glacial façade to crack a tiny bit. ‘I’ve met other natural magic- and materia-wielders, but they’ve only ever been from the Northern Continent, or Wutai. Which are you?’

‘I’m from the North,’ Aeris said.

Here Snow seemed genuinely close to a smile. ‘Oh. What a coincidence. I had no idea, I apologize. Which clan?’

‘Clan?’

‘I’m sorry, I assumed that you meant you’re descended from the older families, the Great Glacier nomads, if you’re capable of magic. The sedentarised folk up North were always just as useless with magic as anywhere else, at least in my experience.’

Aeris stared at her. It was all clicking into place so well that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t associated Snow’s appearance and natural abilities to those infamous nomads before. Memories popped up unheeded – her father sitting by her bed, telling her scary stories about mysterious enchantresses who didn’t feel the cold and who could summon blizzards. _You better get in that bath right this minute, or the Cold Women will come down and freeze all the water up!_ Or another of his favourites, _you better brush your teeth, or the Cold Women will come and harvest them for necklaces!_

She hadn’t been prepared to think about her father. She looked away, trying to gather herself.

‘My people were nomads, too,’ she said softly. ‘Just not from the Glacier. I mean, at least I don’t think so. Technically my mother emigrated up North with my father, but before that – sorry,’ she added, shaking her head. ‘It’s a bit complicated.’

Snow nodded. ‘It’s alright. I am happy to hear you aren’t originally from any of those towns, in any case. Townsfolk weren’t very…  gracious, when we came down from the mountains.’

‘Well, we all grew up thinking you were the boogeymen.’

Snow smirked. ‘That’s partly true in my case.’

‘Why did your clan come down?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Snow said. ‘But it was far from being the whole clan. It was mostly a few young idealistic families, and sick elders. We’d heard that Modeoheim was particularly welcoming, that we could blend in straight away. But we were more noticeable there than anywhere I’ve ever been since. The authorities had to impose a law on the use of materia to protect its citizens from us – if they hadn’t treated us like dirt we wouldn’t have resorted to magic. But there you are.’

She was talking in a more relaxed toned now, far more open than she had been when they’d first sat down. After all the wariness, Aeris found she was beginning to admire her. ‘It must take guts to go from a nomadic lifestyle to somewhere like Midgar. And not to mention, you meet with the most important members of ShinRa on a daily basis on top of that,’ she said.

‘You’re no stranger to that,’ Snow said. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’

Aeris breathed in, wondering what to tell her now that they’d found this unexpected source of complicity. ‘I didn’t choose to leave the Northern Continent. I was really young when I left, so…’

Snow seemed to understand that they’d reached a sensitive topic, as she decided not to ask any more questions. Or maybe her quota of curiosity had been used up. In any case, she nodded a little stiffly at Aeris in a way of closing the conversational parenthesis, and said, ‘Let us leave the past behind us.’

She got up, stood in front of Aeris. Aeris looked up at her dress, seeing the nomadic cut clearly now even though it was modernized and revamped with silverthread and crushed crystals.

‘Can I count on your collaboration at the Intra Meum, then?’ Snow asked.

Aeris bowed her head. ‘I don’t know. I want Avalanche to be able to get on with the whole investigation as soon as possible, if I’m honest. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with the idea of withholding the blood for our own sakes.’

‘Please understand,’ said Snow. ‘If you refuse to do this, I’ll take the blood myself and make my own demands. I only wanted to involve you out of respect for the work you have already accomplished with Sephiroth. But if you don’t come, this will happen without you.’

 _Not if I get the blood first,_ Aeris thought, heard pounding at the idea of it becoming some kind of sick race.

Instead, she said, ‘I’ll think about it.’

Snow nodded. ‘The day before New Year’s eve, I will come down and see what you’ve decided.’

The finality of her tone suggested an end to their conversation. Aeris stood up. Snow extended a hand, and Aeris took it, the chilling quality of her skin making her even more daunting now that Aeris knew the reason behind it.

‘I am glad to know another Northern girl,’ Snow said.

‘Likewise,’ Aeris said with an uneasy smile.

• • •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 'Entice' is a recurrent spell in the FF games. Its occurrences in FFVII don't figure in the Wiki for some reason, but the ingame Northern Continent boss that Snow is based on can perform that spell. :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the plot was such a challenge to edit. And the next chapters are probably going to make me tear my hair out even more. If there are any moments that you feel are badly written or confusing then please drop me a line so I can polish it up later! <3 Hope you enjoy!

• • •

Zack had received a royal welcome when arriving at the Bee – the girls had buried him in their feather-ridden perfumed bodies, and it took him a while before he could disentangle himself and realize that Aeris wasn’t among them. He’d waited and waited, checking his phone – Aeris had said she’d be coming tonight, they were supposed to see each other. He took a booking just to pass the time, and when he accompanied the man back out into the corridor, he realised there was a carton of Wutain cigarettes sitting by Hegemony’s door. A single packet had been ripped out, so it just sat there with a big hole in its plastic cover, looking forlorn.

Frowning, he picked up the carton and knocked.  A voice snapped _what d’you want?_ , so he opened the door and poked his head through.

Gem’s corset was flung over a chair, sumptuous folds dripping with laces, its bones still a little deformed from the extreme tightening she’d administered. She was lying on her unmade bed, body surrounded by a loose black cloud of chiffon, sometimes parting to let through a glimpse a skin or the rosy tip of a breast. Her legs were tangled in the bloody velvet of her bed covers, white peeking through the holes in her stockings. She was taking a drag from a Wutain cigarette – she must’ve heard Zack come in but she decided on gulping down her smoke rather than lifting her head straight away.

‘Is this all the welcome I get?’ Zack said. ‘I haven’t seen you since… practically this summer.’

She expelled the cherry fog from her lungs lazily. ‘You’ll have to make do with it.’

He frowned at that, stepping in and closing the door gently. ‘Are you alright, Gem?’

Hegemony sat up. Zack almost started upon seeing her face. She’d taken off her make-up, so this was perhaps the first time that he’d been acquainted with her real face. Those black eyes seemed strangely subdued and smaller than usual _,_ peering up from under a hood of blonde lashes and a shaven brow. The naked slopes of her lips had a rosy, girlish quality that hardly suited her at all. And to top it all, her hair wasn’t even arching over her head in the usual Mohawk – it was tumbling down her shoulders in static clumps. 

‘You look like hell!’ Zack blurted out, and she had enough humour to grin.

‘Well thanks.’ She raked her eyes down his frame in response. ‘For someone who’s just back from the war, you’re looking far too clean.’

‘Don’t start.’ He strode over to the bed and leaned in, wrapping her up in a bone-crushing hug even as she protested. ‘I missed you, you big drama queen.’

‘Yeah - me too. Now can you get _off_!’

They sat, Gem lighting her colleague a cigarette and absently pulling together her flimsy clothing so that she wouldn’t be offering him a free view of her breasts. She listened as he recounted briefly what he’d done since he’d been back in Midgar, nodding and grinning every now and then, but Zack wasn’t dumb enough to believe he’d distracted her from her problems even for a second. So once he’d crushed his first cigarette in her ashtray, his tale dwindled to a halt and he turned his attention to her.

‘So how have you guys been down here?’ he asked her innocently enough, reaching for another.

She swatted his hand away. ‘Oi! Wutain cigarettes are really rare, you know. Get your own.’

‘Are they? Genesis always seems to know where to find them,’ Zack said. Then he smiled. ‘Oh, I get it. They’re a gift.’

‘Yeah, he’s so generous,’ Gem echoed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

‘So how is he? I haven’t really seen him since we came back. Heard he actually got decorated for that Leviathan business. He must be walking on air at the moment.’

‘Why don’t you ask Chimera,’ Gem flung out carelessly.

Zack frowned. ‘What?’

‘Yeah,’ Gem said, staring at her cigarette. ‘A lot’s changed since you’ve been away. I have no idea how she did it but, one second she was just a goddamned nobody and the next, she’s picking up everyone whose name means something in this fucking city. Honestly,’ she added with a laugh, ‘Sephiroth’s got to be the cherry on the cake. Even if it’s a pretty shit cake.’

Zack blinked at her.

‘Wait – what?’ he said, heart pounding as he tried to absorb all of this new and impossible information. ‘She told me nothing happened with Sephiroth.’

Gem looked at him. ‘So you mean you literally don’t know anything about what’s been going on?’

‘Hegemony,’ he dead-panned. ‘You’re scaring me. What happened _?’_

 ‘Oh, I am _not_ doing this,’ Gem groaned, hitching another cigarette between her lips and getting up so that she wouldn’t be facing him.

‘Hey, you’re the one who opened your big mouth,’ Zack said. ‘You can’t just say all that and leave me hanging.’

She expelled the smoke towards the great gilded mirror that adorned the wall, tobacco condensing over the surface. Her fingers were beginning to tremble around her cigarette.

‘You’ve got to promise you’ll act like we never had this conversation.’

This did _not_ sound good. But Zack nodded, staring up at her and feeling his heart pounding faster and faster as he imagined all the worst scenarios.

Gem began: ‘So you know how she wanted to make an impression on Sephiroth at the hospital?’

He gulped, hands balling into fists. ‘He didn’t hurt her, did he?’

Smoke spewed from Hegemony’s lips as she sighed. Then she told him, in simple terms, what had happened that day.

• • •

 

The winter solstice was a family gathering, but as far back as he could remember, Zack had always spent the holiday with Aeris and Elmyra. So they spent the next day in much the same way as they’d always spent the holiday: hanging up faerie lights, shopping for turkey and minced meat and preparing the big festive afternoon meal together. 

Except this time, Zack felt like he was drifting outside of himself, watching himself go through the motions. Yesterday’s revelation had been so blunt and sudden that Zack didn’t even know what to think. The word _rape_ resonated in his mind, dragging behind it the usual load of hatred towards his own sex and the desire for bloody vengeance. But, to have to orientate those emotions towards – _Sephiroth?_ it was so strange, such an alien notion that someone as wholesome as the General would do such a thing. In fact it was just as strange for Sephiroth to be guilty of such a crime, as it was strange that someone would ever want to do such a thing to Aeris. His little Aeris.

And Genesis. Pushing her into harm’s way. It was even more his fault than Sephiroth’s. If it hadn’t been for him…

He’d sought her out at the Bee after Gem had told him the truth, his throat aching with questions and accusations and unshed tears, but she’d hugged him so hard and been so happy to see him that he couldn’t get anything out. There was no way he was going to spoil things for her by fighting over something she’d _chosen_ not to tell him. But it hurt. It hurt to see her smile and be her normal self around him when she’d gone through so much, like she was covering up her pain for his sake.

She definitely noticed that he was being a bit more subdued than usual over the roast turkey.  Elmyra made an effort to talk to Zack’s parents and valiantly steered around Aeris’s chosen profession, but Zack could hardly even meet anyone’s eye, spearing his food and not even joking around with the crackers like he usually did.

The lantern ceremony was forbidden in the slums, so people took to tying their lanterns to their satellite dishes or rooftops. That way, the lanterns would float up as far as the string would allow instead of gathering under the plate. As they had chosen to celebrate the solstice at Elmyra’s instead of at the Fairs’ Upworld place, they all trailed out of the house with lanterns and string, Zack’s parents laughing as always about how eccentric slum practices were. Aeris and Zack went a little way away from their parents to light their own lanterns, tying them to one of the fences outside the house.

There was festive music piping out from somewhere further down the street, and a frosty bitterness in the air. Aeris’s cheeks were bright right as she lit her lantern.

‘I heard they have snow canons in the North,’ she was saying, keeping up the chatter as though nothing was wrong. ‘For when there isn’t the right amount of snowfall for snowboarding. Imagine if we had some of those down here! It’d be so lovely.’

Zack looked at her, his throat sore. The words were stuck there, bulging with each minute that passed. Aeris blinked up at him when she realised he hadn’t said anything for a solid minute.

‘Zack? What’s wrong?’

He tried to smile at her, but his lips wobbled and then in the next minute he was blinking back tears, brushing away those that escaped.

Aeris let go of her lantern and hugged him tight.

‘No, don’t let it go,’ Zack said in a choked voice. ‘You didn’t even make a wish.’

She mumbled something about it not mattering. He watched her green paper lantern float up, up and then stop, bobbing there as the string held it back. His own paper lantern was at their feet, unlit. She didn’t move, so he hugged her back and sighed into her hair.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Aeris,’ he murmured.

Her arms tightened around his waist.

•

 

To put it mildly: the solstice was not Sephiroth’s favourite day of the year.

He stood in the cold winter afternoon in Midgar’s biggest cemetery. Like every other year, the incense burners on Gast’s grave were cold and disused. Sephiroth had been told that the headstone was only decorative, that Gast had died elsewhere and never been brought back home. But that had never stopped him from coming back, doggedly, every single solstice since he was a child. If nobody else was going to remember the man, then at least Sephiroth would.

He took out three fresh incense sticks from the packet in his coat pocket. In a whisper of magic, they were lit, sending long straight lines of scented smoke up into the air. Sephiroth looked at the calligraphy spelling out Gast’s name. The winters he’d spent with Gast had been the only ones where he’d been treated like any other Midgarian kid – he remembered only dimly now, thanks to photos and videos that Gast had left him. The big house that Gast shared with other people from the science department. The huge living room and garden where the other kids would play together, chucking roasted chestnuts at each other and building snowmen. Gast had fought for Sephiroth to be able to be there with them. To be a child like them, if only for a few days. Sephiroth remembered how hard Gast would try to pretend that the other parents weren’t uncomfortable with his presence there. And even if he still had to make a full report of what he’d eaten, who he had socialized with, and how he had felt – those were some of the scant few childhood memories that Sephiroth willingly held onto. Even after Gast had left him. Even after all he felt for the man was a burning hatred for having abandoned him. He had clung onto those moments, staring listlessly at the lab walls or attending sickeningly forced youth centre celebrations during all those lonely solstices that had come afterwards.

He knelt, stuck the incense sticks into the holder. Touched a gloved hand to the smooth grey marble. Then he got up, and headed back to his flat. Genesis would be arriving soon.

•

It was almost a four-hour journey to get to Banora, but Angeal always made a point of visiting Genesis before going to see his family for the solstice. He brought a home-made hunter’s pie this time, one of Genesis’s old favourites. When they were kids running around in Gillian’s kitchen, Angeal would always look over his mother’s shoulder to see how she cooked – so by the time he was a teenager he had a whole repertoire of gorgeous meals down. It made Genesis miss living with him. He missed it for a whole lot of other reasons, too, of course. But they rarely went into those any more.

Genesis took the pie and stored it in his fridge. They cracked open a couple of beers, stood around the kitchen counter. It was a little stilted at first – it always was when they’d spent a while without talking. It brought to mind the old argument, the old unrest that they had spent so long trying to put behind them.

‘Do you want me to tell them about your medals?’ Angeal said.

‘They probably saw it on the TV,’ Genesis said. He touched the cool green glass of his beer bottle against his lower lip, eyes glazed over.

‘It’s a huge achievement, Gen,’ said Angeal. ‘I hope you know that. You didn’t exactly seem very happy about the whole ceremony.’

Genesis looked at his childhood friend. ‘Was I that obvious?’

‘No,’ said Angeal. ‘But I know you. And you seemed kind of uncomfortable to me.’

‘Yeah.’

They stood. Then Angeal sipped some beer, so Genesis followed suite.

‘You’re gonna spend the solstice with him, then?’ Angeal said. He was using that pseudo-casual tone that Genesis dearly hated, the one he always used when pretending he was OK with whatever Genesis had decided to do.

‘Yeah,’ Genesis grunted.

Angeal nodded. Genesis glared at him, hoping he wouldn’t make one of those nauseatingly fraternal comments of his. _Don’t come onto him too hard this time._ Or even worse, some admonishment about how he really should consider seeing his family for once instead of staying cooped up here and pretending they weren’t worrying about him. They weren’t worrying about him, Genesis would reply – he was dead to them, didn’t Angeal remember?

Instead, Angeal just tilted his beer bottle towards Genesis’s. So the redhead obligingly clinked his bottle against it.

‘Hope you have a good time,’ Angeal said.

 

Their conversations never went particularly in-depth into Genesis’s issues, but somehow Angeal still managed to hit all the goddamn nails right on the head. Once he’d gone, Genesis downed the rest of his beer and hurled the empty bottle across the room, pacing to try and get rid of the nervousness he always felt when talking about _that_ side of him. The unfulfilled, perpetually frustrated side. The side that he absolutely never let Sephiroth see, because he didn’t want to rip up their friendship and toss it into the air like goddamned confetti.

He was working on it. Thanks to Aeris, he’d made leaps of progress. And even with Angeal reminding him of his tendency to turn the solstice into some excuse to drink and become that sniveling wreck that he became every single year, he tried to tell himself what he always told himself: that this year would be different.

And besides it hardly even mattered, he thought as he stuck his legs into a pair of stretchy jeans, because Sephiroth had always been completely blind anyway. Genesis could walk through the man’s door holding his bleeding heart in his hand and Sephiroth would probably steer him over to his three bins, one for the recycling, one for the compost, one for general waste, and tell him that organic waste belonged in the compost, the black lid over there. In it goes. Splat. Sometimes Genesis found it so fucking ridiculous that he was tempted to outright say the words, just to see how Sephiroth would react. Good evening, I’m desperately in love with you. So far Genesis had thought of three possible scenarios. The first: a tinny robotic voice resounding in Sephiroth’s mouth, saying, _Sorry, your request does not compute. What is your request?_ The second: a simple response to the part of the sentence that Sephiroth’s brain could register. Yes, it _is_ a good evening, isn’t it? The third: a sigh, the kind Sephiroth made when Genesis quoted Loveless or behaved in some other benignly dramatic way, and then business as usual, as if nothing had happened.

Ah, Goddess. This was why Genesis hated the solstice. The other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, he managed to _not_ think in circles like a simpering idiot.

He tied the black velvet ribbon than Aeris had left around his wrist, as a reminder that he had a reason to stop throwing his self-respect out of the window. Then he grabbed the pie and a bottle of red, and headed up to Sephiroth’s penthouse flat.

•

Sephiroth remembered the first time they’d spent the solstice together. It was after they’d come back from a mission in Wutai, having properly met. Genesis had nowhere to go either for the holiday, so Sephiroth had mentioned Midgarian youth centres for wards and orphans, and the redhead had raised his eyebrows with an air of disgust. _We can do much better than that,_ he’d said. They’d ended up scouring the streets, crashing private parties and getting particularly drunk. Then they had found a sector of Midgar where a big diaspora of southerners from Mideel and Banora lived, who traditionally preferred to set off fireworks and have dances than to send up lanterns. Sephiroth didn’t dance, had never danced, didn’t like to dance – but Genesis had pulled him into a long line of dancers holding each other’s hands and performing complicated step patterns, and he’d been too drunk to struggle his way back out again. It had been the first time he’d spent the holiday laughing in a very long time. 

This year, they’d both decided that they were too tired to do anything other than a meal. Genesis put on some music in the background, filling the empty spaces of Sephiroth’s flat with as much noise as they could. They ate Angeal’s pie, and Sephiroth could tell that Genesis was trying to steer around subjects like the march or the victory against Wutai. Instead they talked weapon designs, literature, gossip about soldiers that they’d both gotten to know during the last stretch of the war.

Sephiroth was unpacking the lanterns he’d bought when he dared the question;

‘So how does it feel to wear the medal, at long last?’

Genesis looked up at him from where he was sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table and serving them more wine. ‘Pretty useless,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t even get me discounts on booze.’

Sephiroth smiled. ‘I told you. It’s an overrated achievement.’

He watched Genesis drink in gulps from his glass. Gaia, he’d never been good at picking the man’s brains – it was always the other way around. But something had been off ever since the victory. Even if he wasn’t exactly the most socially adept person, Sephiroth could tell at least that.

‘Genesis,’ he said haltingly. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something.’

Genesis went very still. He held his glass, clearly trying to keep a cool, disinterested expression. ‘Yeah?’

‘Why didn’t you come to the victory ceremony? Back in Wutai?’

It had apparently not been the question Genesis had feared, because his shoulders dropped back into their usual position. Then he sighed, and downed his wine glass.

‘I’m not drunk enough for that conversation,’ he said. ‘Give me two more bottles and then we can go down that road if you really want.’

Sephiroth smirked.

‘That can be arranged.’

They focused on preparing their lanterns. Sephiroth took out an old vintage whisky, and the conversation they were having about good alcohol meandered around to bookings Genesis had had with Hegemony, and then the subject of sex workers was on the table. Genesis hadn’t meant to steer the conversation that way – he didn’t even know how he felt about Aeris continuing to see Sephiroth, now that he was beginning to know her far more intimately. Still, knowing Sephiroth’s side of the experience was something that only he was privy to, so he felt obliged to further the subject if only for Aeris’s sake.

‘It’s probably a good thing,’ Sephiroth said upon hearing that Genesis had halted his relationship with Hegemony. ‘The less people there are in your life who interact with you via ropes and knives, the better. Even if it was all theatrics.’

‘Well, from what I hear you aren’t completely averse to theatrics after all,’ Genesis said, sipping his whisky innocently.

Sephiroth glanced at him over his drink. ‘Subtle.’

‘What? I’m not asking for _details – ’_

‘Yes, you are.’

‘You’re the one who started talking about sex workers, for once.’

‘Gaia, I did, didn’t I.’

‘So go on then,’ Genesis said. ‘Give me all your grand revelations.’

Sephiroth smirked. He was obsessively smoothing out the kinks in his paper lantern – black and gold this year, with gorgeous calligraphy on the sides. Genesis watched him as his fingers smoothed the same bit of creped paper over and over.

‘There aren’t many grand revelations to tell,’ he began. ‘We see each other. She is… satisfying.’

Genesis shook his head at the euphemism. Sephiroth didn’t seem finished, so he waited, unable to rid his mind of the image of Aeris with her fingers covered in dirt and her eyes all dewy with pleasure.

‘I still don’t understand why I need it,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But then, everyone needs it. To a certain extent.’

‘No,’ Genesis said with a laugh. ‘Everyone does _not_ need to enter a relationship of control and domination with a paid woman. But sexual needs are a very wide spectrum, so. You’re right. Everyone has needs they can’t explain.’

Sephiroth’s eyes were glazed over as he looked at his lantern.

‘Concerning the past, though,’ he said. ‘I think I’m beginning to understand.’

They were treading on eggshells, now. Mind swimming with the alcohol, Genesis frowned, trying to concentrate.

‘The release of it,’ Sephiroth said, his hand extending as though to illustrate something. ‘I feel like it can only be achieved if the situation is in control. In Wutai… we had complete control. There was no way for the women to fight back. Even the ones who gave themselves willingly. They weren’t… free, at all. And I suppose intimidation and payment is another way of creating a controlled environment. It’s safe.’

Genesis’s heart was pounding heavily in his chest as he watched his friend open up completely. The intimacy of it was almost frightening. Sephiroth had never let him come this close – they never talked about the heart of their respective psychoses, the conclusions they made in their own self-analyses.

‘You know me,’ Sephiroth said, looking up at his friend. ‘I’ve always thrived in controlled environments.’

Genesis pretended to be shocked, holding up a hand to gesture at the immaculate flat they were sitting in. ‘I would never have guessed,’ he said.

Sephiroth smiled, though it was slightly vague, clearly hampered by his thought process. ‘The thing is,’ he said. ‘In the past, there were very few things that I was really in control of. Even during the war, it took a long time before I was in charge of anything at all. I think I’ve told you about that before. Everything I did was monitored, everything I ate, every hour of sleep I had.’

‘Mm,’ Genesis said. ‘You mentioned that ShinRa liked to keep a close eye on their prodigies.’

‘Yes. But even after they grant you some space – like your own flat, free time, responsibility over other people,’ Sephiroth went on. ‘That impression of being controlled – it grows with you. It stays. Even just talking like this. It requires giving up control over the exchange to show respect to the other person. I don’t think I was ever socialized in the same way as you, I was never encouraged to speak my mind – I was only taught to be quiet and wait my turn. Relationships with other people were always a subtle game of dominance that I could never win. And I think… ’ Here he frowned, fingers curling inwards. ‘When it comes to sex. I think it was one of the first things where… I could control what was happening. I was free to control the exchange. And it was one of the most liberating things I had ever felt, at the time. Along with being set loose on foreign territory with permission to kill.’

His detachment was chilling to the bone. But Genesis listened, enrapt. Sephiroth was showing him the building blocks of who he was – which was no easy feat, even for those who didn’t have as many psychological obstacles as he seemed to have.

Damn it all to hell. There was no way Genesis was ever going to get over this man. Especially not now that he was baring his jugular like this, showing Genesis something that no one else could ever hope to access.

‘So with Chimera,’ Genesis said slowly. ‘You enjoy being in control?’

‘That’s the thing,’ Sephiroth said. ‘The fact that we’re only pretending, that it’s all like some kind of game – it made me understand that that’s what it’s always been. A game of dominance that I’m terrified of losing all over again.’

‘But you’ve already lost,’ Genesis said. ‘She’s in control of what you’re allowed to do together.’

Sephiroth sighed. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘And that’s what I don’t understand. With her, there’s only a pretense of control, and yet there’s still release. Like I’ve… tricked myself somehow into enjoying a relationship that’s far more equal than I want to believe.’

Genesis sipped his whisky and gazed at Sephiroth, wondering if he knew just how goddamned attractive he was when he showed rare vulnerability like this.

‘What about me?’ Genesis asked. ‘You’ve never been in control of me.’

Sephiroth looked at him with a smile. ‘I know. I have no idea how we managed to become friends,’ he said, to which Genesis laughed.

‘I think it’s because I saved your arse so many times, you’re absolutely crippled with gratitude and have no idea how to make it up to me,’ he said.

Sephiroth laughed and served himself more whisky.

‘I think I made it up to you about… thirteen different times,’ he said. ‘Remember the forest fire incident? And the rampant Typhon?’

‘Pfffft. Those were hardly life-threatening,’ Genesis said.

They finished their alcohol whilst reminiscing a little more. Then they got up, taking their lanterns and an orb of Fire materia. Sephiroth led them out to the balcony.

Outside, the Midgarian sky was dark and starless as always – but there was a steady trickle of multicoloured lanterns drifting up, doubled by their reflections on the skyscrapers. The ones that had been let loose earlier were already making artificial constellations up high.

The whole city seemed enchanted just for one night. Genesis leant against the bannister, looking down at the streets where throngs of people were milling around with their own lanterns. He couldn’t help smiling like a little kid at the whole scene. It was one of the only days of the year when the streets of Midgar actually became beautiful to look at.

Sephiroth passed him his paper lantern. Genesis took it, lit the candle inside with a wave of the fingers. They stood side by side, forearms pressed against the bannister, faces illuminated by firelight as they held their lanterns out.

‘What about now?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘Is this a good time? Or do you need more booze?’

Genesis realised what he was asking. ‘Let’s not spoil a nice moment with my deepest and darkest,’ he said, but Sephiroth glanced at him reproachfully.

‘I think I’m entitled to at least that, seeing how you had me spill my guts all over the table back there.’

 Genesis smirked. His eyes were trained on the glow of his lantern. There had always been something odd about these goddamn paper boxes – they were such a crude device, and yet the ritualistic atmosphere they created made every conversation so crucially important.

‘I didn’t go to the victory ceremony, because I didn’t want any part of it,’ Genesis said. ‘I haven’t wanted any part in the war for a very long time.’

‘So why did you stay?’ Sephiroth said.

‘Why did _you_ stay?’ Genesis asked him. He looked at how the firelight glowed on the elegant lines of Sephiroth’s face, turning wayward white strands of hair to gold.

‘I stayed because the Wutai war has been my entire life for so long,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Reaching closure was essential, however I might feel about the victory itself.’

He looked over at Genesis. _Your turn._

Genesis sighed. Heart heavy, he said, ‘I stayed because you stayed.’

There was a pause, where Sephiroth clearly tried to figure out what response was appropriate. Then, with the ghost of a smile on his lips, he said, ‘Not exactly the most heroic of reasons, then.’

Genesis glanced over at him, and laughed. It was all he could do, really – laugh.

‘I’m not sure there’s any weight behind that term,’ Genesis said. ‘What does hero even mean, when it’s stamped on your file by ShinRa?’

‘Mm,’ Sephiroth agreed. ‘I suppose it’s just meant to be a token of loyalty.’

Genesis snorted. Then he held his lantern higher. ‘Here’s to us, then. The heroes of Wutai, so damned loyal that we discuss desertion over whisky every other weekend.’

Sephiroth smirked. Then, one after the other, they let go of their lanterns. They watched them float up, two points of light against a dark sky.   

‘I don’t think I ever cared whether you were loyal to ShinRa,’ Sephiroth mused. ‘All that ever counted out there was that you were loyal to me. That there was trust between us.’

‘And that was extremely easy to establish,’ Genesis said. ‘As I’m so naturally trustworthy.’

Sephiroth laughed. However many times he’d managed it, it always felt like a small victory, to make Sephiroth laugh. Genesis looked down; the General was leaning his forearms against the railing, his hands hooked over each other, dangling above emptiness. There was an urge building, to press his forearm against his friend’s, to take his hand. He tried to keep it at bay.

‘You know,’ he started, wary of how goddamned tender he was feeling. ‘Once there’s trust, there doesn’t have to be an issue of dominance any more.’

‘Mm.’

‘Maybe that’s why you allow me to hang out up here and drink all your alcohol on a weekly basis.’

‘Maybe,’ Sephiroth said.

‘Perhaps you should try to build that with Chimera,’ Genesis said. ‘Or, I don’t know. Someone who makes you feel comfortable.’

Sephiroth glared at him as though to say, _stop trying so hard._

‘I’ll make that my wish,’ Sephiroth railed. ‘To obtain the undoubtedly crucial ability to let my guard down and allow more idiots into my personal space.’

Genesis snorted. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Shall I dictate you yours?’

‘Nah, I’ve already made mine.’

Sephiroth waited for him to elaborate, but Genesis stayed frustratingly silent, staring ahead at the hundreds of tiny paper lanterns floating slowly up. Then, he leaned against Sephiroth’s shoulder, forearm hovering closer to his. Sephiroth was about to move away at the unexpected contact, but the pressure was insistent, clearly not accidental. He lowered his chin, wondering if Genesis expected him to put an arm around his shoulders in a fraternal embrace. But the blasted redhead didn’t give any other indication of what he wanted. Sephiroth could feel goosebumps spreading over his skin as their forearms stayed just close enough to touch, but not close enough to press against each other.  Eyes locked on the lanterns ahead, he tried to relax, hoping that Genesis’s enhanced senses wouldn’t pick up his metabolic changes – his heartbeat pounding faster, the hairs on his arm prickling up.

It was just a friendly contact, Sephiroth reminded himself. Nothing to shy away from. It had taken him a long time to accept that contact was another way of showing empathy – Genesis had been the first to push past his boundaries, to the detriment of his own comfort, just for the sake of teaching him that particular lesson. Slaps on the back, arms around the shoulders – back when they were out on the field together, all the other Seconds would go white when they saw the liberties Genesis would take around him. The memory made him smile, now. He had felt completely invaded at the time, but it had been a crucial lesson to learn for the public life he’d had to lead afterwards.

Sometimes, though… he couldn’t help wondering. He knew Genesis liked men as well as women – he’d even reprimanded him a dozen times for inappropriate behaviour at the HQ or during missions.  But it was impossible to tell what was friendly and what was some sort of signal, when Genesis tended to be liberally tactile with everyone he appreciated. Sometimes, the potential for misinterpretation made Sephiroth’s mouth go dry. He had no idea how he would react if any obvious signal was made. He had never… envisaged the concept of being sexually intimate with someone he actually appreciated beforehand. Surely sex made everything lopsided. Pushed an equal relationship into some fight for control, with one person surrendering entirely to the other.

No, Sephiroth reminded himself for the hundredth time. Genesis was loud and honest enough a person. He shouldn’t let himself spiral like this into unfounded worries. If Genesis was interested, he would’ve made it far clearer than this. In the meantime, it was wholly useless to ponder any what ifs.

Sephiroth broke off the contact, then laid a hand on Genesis’s shoulder just to show he wasn’t moving away out of any discomfort. Genesis looked up at him, eyes full of reflected lights.

‘More whisky?’ Sephiroth asked him.

Genesis smiled. ‘There’s never enough.’

• • •

 

Business at the Bee was slow between the solstice and the New Year. Most of the clients who came through the doors were regulars, spending their holiday evenings with their favourite girls as they didn’t have the luxury of families to celebrate with. The atmosphere in the bar was far more relaxed than usual, girls plopping on the couches to talk with their regulars rather than flitting from man to man to see who was interested.

Aeris should’ve been focused on organizing a booking for Sephiroth before the Intra Meum deadline came up. But there was a problem. Zack had somehow got to know everything that had happened to her since he’d been away – well, not everything, but enough to drive him to tears and feel completely neglected because of how she’d kept it all to herself. She’d had to give _reasons_ why she didn’t want to talk about the assault with him, explaining to him that seeing as it involved his goddamn _boss,_ maybe it wasn’t productive for Zack to tear himself up about all that.

There was only one person to blame.

Aeris sat in the bar in her usual get-up, watching as Hegemony brought regular after regular up the stairs. They hadn’t even exchanged a single greeting this evening. She didn’t know what hurt more – the guilt concerning Genesis, or the fact that Gem had gone and stabbed her in the back like this. It didn’t exactly feel like fair play, though Aeris supposed that this had been her way of getting even.

It just hurt. That’s all she knew. She’d seen friendships in here fly to pieces because of clients and foul play and general cattiness, and she didn’t want the same thing to happen to her and Gem.

When Gem came downstairs again, all showered and glammed up, their eyes crossed. Gem seemed to hesitate for a moment before heading for the bar to get her usual rum. Aeris closed her eyes, trying to swallow her anxiety. Then she got up, and headed in the same direction.

Both women stood at the bar for a few prickly seconds, side by side. Gem drummed her ink-black nails on the counter, eyes on the beer taps, clearly making an effort to ignore her colleague. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe.

‘Can I talk to you?’ Aeris asked at long last.

Gem finally looked at her. She didn’t seem angry. Then again it was a little difficult to see her expression under the cake of make-up she was wearing. When the barmaid handed her the glass of rum, Aeris noticed her fingers were trembling.

 Glass in hand, Gem turned around.

‘Come on, then,’ she snapped irritably as she brushed past Aeris. Heart pounding, Aeris followed her.

They went to one of the VIP tables that was hidden behind red bead curtains. Gem sat in the middle of the couch, crossing her legs. Aeris shuffled in next to her, trying to figure out what order to say things in. Staring at the red glass beads, Aeris frowned and threw out what was on top of the pile:

‘I know it’s one of the first lessons you taught me,’ she said. ‘Don’t steal someone else’s client. It’s the most basic, brothel one-oh-one rule. I get it. It was crappy of me to accept the booking even after you told me it was fine and I’m really, really sorry.’

Gem finally broke her ice queen character. She leaned her elbows heavily on the table and let out a long sigh.

‘I’m too sobre for this,’ she groaned.

‘I don’t want there to be drama,’ Aeris said. ‘Especially not between you and me.’

‘I know,’ Gem said.

‘So why…’ Aeris swallowed, cursing the lump that was forming in her throat. She could see Zack’s face again, tear-tracks glittering in the lantern light. The way he’d tried to smile past it just to make her feel better.

She couldn’t say it louder than a murmur. ‘Why did you tell him?’

Gem fiddled with her glass. She sighed again, before letting her head fall between her elbows, forehead knocking against the table.

‘I thought he already knew,’ she muttered against the polished wood. Then she turned her head, hands smoothing her hair over her nape as she looked at Aeris. ‘I felt like shit so I opened my big mouth and mentioned Sephiroth. And then… he wasn’t just gonna leave it alone when I’d basically given him a big juicy prologue.’

Aeris nodded. It didn’t feel better quite yet, but it was already a good thing that they were talking.

Gem lifted her head again and covered her face with her hands, apparently not caring that she’d spread her make-up everywhere.

‘I’m sorry,’ she groaned into her palms. ‘It was shitty.’

‘It’s OK,’ Aeris said. ‘We were both pretty shitty.’

‘Yeah,’ Gem laughed. When she took her hands away from her face, her mascara was leaking down her cheekbones in messy lines. It was partly due to her rubbing it, but upon further inspection Aeris could tell her eyes were red. Without thinking, she opened her arms. The older woman fell into the hug, holding Aeris tight around the shoulders. They breathed against each other’s hair for a moment, Aeris appreciating the heady musk that Gem usually doused herself with.

‘It’s just,’ Gem muttered. ‘It’s so fucking depressing to have to settle for less. When you’ve known someone like that.’

‘Yeah. I get it.’

‘It wasn’t fair on you for me to lash out.’

‘Hey, none of this has been fair on you either.’

They held each other for a moment while Aeris tried to pull herself together. Once she felt confident that she could talk without blubbering, she said:

‘Listen, you don’t have to settle for less. There’s an opportunity coming up.’

Gem broke away so they could talk more comfortably, though she held onto Aeris’s hands.

‘Snow’s organising the New Year show at the Intra Meum. I was thinking – as you’ve been up there already and everything, maybe you could come with me. I’ll just tell Snow to save another space among the hostesses they’re hiring.’

Gem smiled, the big metal loop in her lower lip bobbing forwards a little.

‘You know, it’s irritating how you make it completely impossible to stay mad at you,’ she said.

Aeris smiled back. ‘You want to come, then?’

‘Hmm. Do I want to come to Midgar’s most prestigious cabarets and potentially get noticed by the most talented female assassin on the Planet?’ She tilted her head. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. I mean, there _are_ about three Mister Crusty-Dicks down here who’ll be disappointed if I _do_ go…’

Aeris laughed. ‘I’ll get you another rum and you can mull it over.’

‘Sounds good.’   


• • •

 

It was only a couple of days before the New Year when Aeris finally managed to get Sephiroth on the phone. She was pacing in her room at the Bee, phone at her ear. It had been difficult not to harass him over the scant few days between the solstice and the new year, so she’d only called a few times without leaving messages. Besides, she was utterly unable to imagine him sitting down and listening to a messy voicemail where she stammered about when and where he’d like to have sex. The conversation would happen in real-time or it wouldn’t happen at all.

The line clicked open. She was already resigned to the fact that she’d have to go to the Intra Meum, so this was really a last ditch effort. She tried to find her voice, her breath cut short as always when she spoke to that man.

‘Hi, I’m not bothering you am I?’ she rushed out.

‘I’m on leave,’ Sephiroth said. His voice sounded even deeper on the phone than it did in person. Perhaps it was because he had no choice but to talk when they phoned, and she’d simply forgotten that that’s what he sounded like. After all, sometimes he wouldn’t say a single word during their bookings. She’d have to prompt him, taunt him until he responded with something else than body language – and then his voice would be all choked and distorted with lust.

‘Right. I just wanted to call and… and see how you are,’ said Aeris lamely.

There was a pause. ‘I thought the arrangement was that I called you, and not the other way around?’

 ‘I just hadn’t heard from you in a while,’ she said. ‘And I’ve got to organise myself a bit for the holidays, so. Just wanted to know in advance if there were any dates you might be thinking of.’

She heard the sound of metal clinking, like he was swirling a spoon in a tea mug.

‘The holidays aren’t necessarily the best time for me,’ he said.

‘Mm,’ said Aeris. ‘I understand. Family and all that.’

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Aeris drifted over to her blinds, fiddling with the string. Maybe she’d said the wrong thing? She racked her brains, trying to remember if she knew any trivia about the famous General’s family. Gaia, she hoped he actually had one.

‘I suppose you could put it that way,’ he said. ‘In any case I’m not… particularly inclined at the moment.’

‘OK,’ Aeris said. She’d expected that answer too much to be disappointed. In any case she would get the chance to do things her own way at the Intra Meum, especially if she had Gem around to support her. ‘Well, if you’d like, I’ll be at the Intra Meum on New Year’s. If you change your mind.’

‘Oh, you’re talking about the Calamity show they’re doing?’

‘Yeah, there’s…’

Aeris had one finger hooked in her blinds, peeking out into the darkness, when she realised there was something unusual down below. The view from her window mainly consisted of three huge grey pipelines that had been strung with the usual tacky ‘Free Wutai’ bunting, and a couple of broken-down cars sitting at the foot of the pipelines that were being eaten by glass-root moss. There would be occasional drunkards, Bee clients or cats drifting along the road, but otherwise it would remain empty.

Tonight, there was a silhouette by one of the broken down cars. All in black, standing just outside of the light that poured out from the Bee windows.

Aeris’s heart leapt to her throat.

‘Chimera?’ Sephiroth voice persisted in her ear. ‘Everything alright?’

‘Yeah, I’m all good.’ She unhooked her finger, letting the blinds spring back into place. Her heart was galloping. It had to be… had to be one of the Turks. To be standing so still. Well. Maybe it was nothing, maybe they were just having a cigarette before coming in for a booking. But to stand _right under_ her window like that?

She shook the thoughts away. ‘Yeah, sorry. Um. They are doing a Calamity show, yes. You should come, they’re giving free tickets to Soldiers.’

Sephiroth hummed thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I was already entertaining the thought.’

‘Right. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you there, then?’

‘Yes. Possibly.’ He waited for a few seconds, before saying, ‘Happy solstice, Chimera.’

‘Oh. Thank you. Happy solstice.’

She was grimacing with awkwardness when she hung up. ‘Just wanted to know how you’re doing,’ she muttered in a parody of herself. ‘Oh, thank you, happy solstice. _Idiot_.’ She went to the window, waited a few seconds to psyche herself up before cracking the blinds open.

There was no one. Just a vague cloud of cigarette smoke, drifting into the darkness.

• • •

 

On the eve of the new year, all over the world, there would be representations of the Calamity. It was an old Cetran legend that lived on, so warped and damaged by time that every culture had its own interpretation of it. The cast of characters shifted, though there was always one female character representing a monolithic Evil. The story itself involved a long and arduous quest, where a handful of nomadic characters traveled the planet and dispensed wisdom wherever they went. There would be a betrayal, one of the characters revealing herself to be the Calamity. And then it would be a fight of good versus evil, with several of the characters getting ‘contaminated’ by the Calamity’s evil and having to either nobly commit suicide or accept to fight for her cause.  

Genesis favoured the northern interpretation of the myth, which of course included his ‘Goddess’, a humanoid representation of the Planet’s Lifestream which had supposedly fought alongside the nomads against the Calamity. Since he had somehow found enough rare books to properly research the Cetra, he would always talk everyone’s ear off about how it was more historically accurate to include the will of the Planet in the story, as the Planet’s wellbeing was central to Cetran life.

Sephiroth had to endure more of this scholarly blabber on their way to the Intra Meum. Genesis had apparently heard of this particular show before – it was choreographed by a Northerner, so they absolutely _had_ to see it, because it would surely be more accurate. You see, according to such-and-such historian whom nobody had ever heard of, in the north there are supposedly cultures who descend far more directly from the Cetra than we do, et cetera, et cetera. Sephiroth stared out of the window, nodding along so Genesis wouldn’t be offended. In truth he just wanted to sink into more reminiscences of the past, as he always did at the turn of the year.

Finally, they arrived. The pair was a sight to see as they stepped out of their chauffeured car. Sephiroth was wearing a smart black tailored suit, open on a white shirt; Genesis had chosen a cream number covering a dash of crimson. Both of them strode confidently in the flashing lights of the journalists. Genesis kept his eyes on Sephiroth’s long white mane in front of him, concentrating on the repression of all murderous instincts as he heard the reporters yelling _Mr Rhapsodos! Mr Rhapsodos, sir!_      

Angeal was waiting for them both among the haggle of guests at the sprawling entrance of the Intra Meum. Upon seeing them his rugged face broke into a grin, and he practically pawed his way through the rich guests to get to his fellows. Sephiroth responded with a smile, grunting as he was practically knocked over by the larger man’s one-armed embrace.

Genesis was looking at him almost aggressively. The idea of Angeal having just come back from Banora always made him tainted somehow, like the black gunk of the past had clung to his boots and he was spreading it everywhere. The two shared a long gaze, before the older man gathered his friend into the same embrace. He held onto this one for a while longer.

‘Your father says hello,’ Angeal muttered, and Genesis frowned, bringing up his free arm to tighten his hold on his friend.

Sephiroth stepped nonchalantly between them and the reporters who were sneaking a few cameras towards them. 

‘Mr Rhapsodos! Mr Rhapsodos!’

‘No questions, please,’ Sephiroth called out to them.

‘Have you recovered, Mr Rhapsodos?’ they yelled anyway. ‘How have you spent your holidays?’

‘Have you got a response for those who say you boycotted the victory ceremony?’

‘What does your family think of your great success?’  
  
Just as the forest of microphones began to crowd around them in earnest, Genesis walked up to the nearest cameraman and laid a hand on the expensive camera. Electricity erupted from his palm into the instrument. Its inner structure exploded in a mess of sparks and fumes.

‘We said no questions,’ he reminded them, the use of raw magic jarring with the impression of civility that his pretty suit gave off.

‘Wha – oh my _God_ \- do you know how _expensive_ this is – ’ The cameraman’s voice was hoarse, and just as there was a growing clamour among the journalists Angeal seemed to grab the two Firsts by the scruffs of their necks and drag them into the cabaret proper.

•

The interior was like a great black dome, built a little like a baroque theatre with balconies running along the walls. The balconies here were large enough to accommodate tables that could be curtained off and turned into private booths. One could watch what was happening down below, and then decide on drawing the curtains around their booth so they could enjoy one of the hostesses.

The main stage arched across the glittering cabaret floor, so that every table on the ground floor could have the privilege of proximity. The First Class trio drifted through the tables, looking around themselves. Shafts of light speared through the smoke, sweeping across tabletops and the oily surface of people’s liquor. The light broke up according to the movements of the dancers on the main stage – they snaked their arms up and around their bodies, trapping the light. It became a shifting geometry, corners cutting into their waists, parallelism pouring between their fingers.

A heady bass rhythm guided the dancers’ movements, pummeling the pit of every man’s stomach with a forced arousal. Genesis had certainly seen a lot of Midgar’s burlesque scene, but he ended up staring like the rest of the first timers, mouth parted and eyes glittering with admiration. There was one thing that he couldn’t quite get his head around: the fact that he had to associate _Aeris_ with a place like this. He kept expecting to see her rosy cheeks when elegantly dressed hostesses sidled past him. Sephiroth had mentioned that she’d be there, so he was divided between excitement at the prospect of seeing her, and confusion about the messy situation they were in. He didn’t exactly feel good about omitting his relationship with her whenever Sephiroth talked about her. But how could he even approach the subject? Oh sorry, by the way, I’m kind of in a relationship the sex worker I chucked into your arms? Yeah, that was a great plan.

There had been no strict seating arrangements, so Second Class men and women kept milling around shouting over their shoulders at one another. Genesis couldn’t help wondering what the sprawling stage looked like from the balconies. He glanced over his shoulder at Sephiroth and Angeal, nodded at the stairs as an invitation.

His gaze crossed Zack’s, who was standing beside Angeal and talking to him in his ear – the music was too loud for normal conversation. The boy didn’t smile, didn’t nod at him to say hello, nothing. Strange. He had always shown himself to be civil enough when present at Genesis’s outposts. Angeal seemed to be following, so Genesis just turned and started up the plush carpeted stairway.

The balcony was teeming with Seconds and Thirds who were spreading from table to round table. Each table had couches around it, turned towards the edge to get a better view of the stage below. Genesis noted the round railings on the ceiling, curtains held back for now though they were designed to shield each table from onlookers if a private dance were taking place.

Sephiroth sighed as he came up next to him.

‘Remind me why I accept to accompany you to places like this?’ he dead-panned, eyes following the half-naked hostesses who were floating from table to table on massive heels.

Genesis hadn’t expected them to be quite so naked before the show had even started. He turned  around, saw Angeal coming up the stairs behind them with Zack.

‘I know you can take a little nudity with your culture,’ he said, to which Sephiroth snorted. ‘But I think we’re going to have to do something about Angeal. I’m not sure he even knows the concept of a private dance.’

‘You’re right,’ Sephiroth said, pretending to be concerned. ‘We should protect his honour.’

The pair came back down the stairs, disrupting the flux of people who were climbing up. They smashed into Angeal, arms out, proclaiming that there was nothing to see but dishonourable things, and Angeal was distressed at first but was soon laughing and trying to barrel past them. In normal circumstances Genesis would’ve expected Zack to join in somehow – but he only stepped aside, practically scowling as he swept past them and proceeded up the stairs.

Well. Something had definitely crawled up his ass. Genesis wasn’t exactly friendly enough with him to find out what, but he couldn’t deny that he had a bad feeling about his attitude.

•

‘So… there you go.’

Aeris was pacing back and forth whilst Gem was smoking, waiting for Aeris to explain herself. They were outside one of the fire exits of the Intra Meum, standing around with a few other smokers who were minding their own business. Aeris rubbed her arms pink – it was unbelievably hot inside, but the cold was beginning to bite at her skin after the initial relief.

‘It’s all for a bigger cause,’ Aeris tried to say.

Gem just stared at her. ‘A big cause, and an even bigger checkbook,’ she said.

Aeris bunched her lips up in embarrassment. ‘It’s really not about the prize. I promise.’

‘Goddess below us,’ Gem sighed. ‘Well, I’m glad to know I was such a big help with all the advice I gave you _not_ to see him again.’

Aeris looked down at her shoes. ‘Gem…’

‘Yeah, I know. It’s petty to say that. But you know me, I’m petty as fuck and I _wish_ you would’ve listened to me. Because that man – he’s a fucking psychopath. You do remember that, right?’

‘It makes no difference whether he’s right in the head or not,’ Aeris said. She stepped closer. ‘There’s a thing I need to do tonight,’ she muttered into Gem’s Mohawk. ‘You need to promise me you’ll keep this to yourself.’

Gem seemed far too curious to keep protesting. ‘I promise.’

‘There’s something I need to take from him,’ she said. She used to find it funny when _Him_ became a kind of code word between her and her colleagues. Right now though, it sounded way too much like a target lock-on for it to be amusing.  ‘It’s like this little… necklace with a vial on it. Snow is supposed to be helping me get it, but she wants it for herself. And she absolutely _must not_ get her hands on it. If something happens tonight – I need you to be on my side. To help me.’

‘What do you mean by ‘help’, exactly?’

‘If she – tries to make it difficult for me. If you could protect me, or provide a distraction, something like that. I have no idea how this night is going to go, but if I know you’re there – ’

Gem grinned at her. ‘As long as I don’t have to shoot her and ruin all potential for mentorship there might’ve been, then sure, you can count on me.’

‘Gem, I’m serious.’

The older woman gave her a tiny one-armed hug. ‘I know. If you need me to keep an eye on her,  I’ll keep an eye on her. But babe, she’s got a pretty hardcore reputation. I don’t think I’d be _that_ much use if I went up against her in a shoot-out or a brawl or any kind of serious confrontation.’

Aeris hugged her back. ‘I know. But just… knowing you’re there is already a big help.’

•

Teetering a little on her high heels, Aeris made her way through the cabaret floor, meandering around tables and smiling at drunk patrons. She was trying to look discreet as she searched each group of people, keeping an eye out for white hair or glowing eyes. Turned out, quite a few men and women here had eyes that spilled Mako in the dark – it was a little eerie, to say the least.

When she realised it was more likely that Sephiroth was upstairs, she went to the staircase and breathed out. She still hadn’t gotten any better at walking in these ridiculous shoes. Hopefully she wouldn’t die. She gripped the bannister like her life depended on it, and began taking it one step at a time, every muscle in her body tensing as she tried to avoid falling over.  

Once she’d gotten to the top of the stairs, she was too relieved about still being alive to really notice that someone was staring at her intently. Then Zack was by her side in moments, and she was so taken aback that she almost fell back down the stairs again. 

‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed.

Aeris glared at him. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m working,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t – you shouldn’t stick around me. I saw some of your friends downstairs and they didn’t recognize me but, if I’m with you they’ll probably figure it out.’

‘I don’t care about them,’ Zack said. He put a hand on her arm, tried to pull her away to a vacant table so they could talk. Aeris broke out of his grip, and they stood awkwardly face to face for a moment. ‘Listen. I just – I want to protect you, alright?’

‘I don’t need your protection, Zack,’ Aeris sighed. ‘I’m here to work. You know what that means. I’ve got to do my rounds all night long. So it’s not going to be very lucrative if you fight everyone off me, is it.’

 _‘_ But _he’s_ here,’ Zack finally said.

‘Yes. I know,’ Aeris huffed. She had tried to explain that it wasn’t his problem, that she could handle Sephiroth herself. He looked at her with that pitiful frown of his, like he was hurt that she hadn’t discussed this with him either. Gaia, she had neither the time nor the energy to explain things all over again. ‘Listen, I think…’ She sighed. ‘I think I’d be more comfortable if you weren’t here.’

Zack looked outraged. ‘I am not leaving you alone. No way.’

‘Please,’ Aeris said. ‘I need to do this. Just… sit somewhere specific so I know to avoid you, OK?’

‘Aeris,’ Zack muttered. He went to hold her hand, but she moved away, still not wanting anyone to figure out that he was supposedly ‘going out’ with a hostess.

‘Just let me do this,’ she said. ‘I’m fine, I promise. I’ll be _fine._ ’

Aeris would never have thought that she’d be relieved when she finally found Sephiroth. She could feel Zack’s eyes on her so keenly that she had half a mind to draw the curtains shut straight away. She headed over to their table, brushing down her dress and trying to put herself back into hostess-mode. One hand brushed over the Enemy Skill materia that she’d fixed in her garter, just to remind herself that it was there. Then she took the plunge, and stepped up to their table.

•

In the handful of seconds it took for him to take in her full appearance, Genesis thought he was in love. Long shapely legs ending in pointy-heeled stilettos, thighs adorning lace patterns that immediately attracted the eye… She was decked in red: red stockings, short red dress cinched at the waist, loose sleeves falling from her shoulders and sweeping around her hips. They were slashed from the shoulder down, letting through her naked arms. The light material shimmered so that it was absolutely impossible to miss her.

She was smiling, though her smile was a little fixed as she took in the First Class trio. Sephiroth turned his head towards her, his gaze cryptic and heavy-lidded as he looked her up and down. Angeal just stared at her like she was a stinking Marlboro shuffling up to them in high heels.

Poor girl. Genesis immediately lifted a hand to welcome her.

‘Fancy seeing you here, my darling,’ he said in his customarily loud, theatrical tone. She seemed thankful for the welcome, placing her hand on his so he could kiss her knuckles.

‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ she stammered. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘Mm. I was thinking, perhaps some champagne?’ Genesis said before there could be any awkward silences. He watched her, trying to figure out what she was planning for the evening. Goddess, they were all so dreadfully tangled up. He wondered if she would want to eventually go to a separate table with one of them – though he had no idea which of them was the intended target for the evening. And how on earth would Sephiroth react if she didn’t choose him?

‘Are you going to be joining us for the show?’ Genesis asked. Perhaps it would be less awkward if… they were all in one space. Then again, _Angeal._ Goddamn it. Angeal was there.

She looked at him, mouth open as though she didn’t quite know how to answer that.

‘Excuse me,’ Angeal said all of a sudden. He got up from the couch, giving Genesis a knowing smile that clearly said, _I’m not letting you drag me into whatever the hell this is._ Then he left, heading over to the next table where Zack was deep in conversation with a bunch of Seconds.

Genesis could’ve sworn there was a collective sigh of relief around the table. That made one less problem to take care of.

‘Champagne, then?’ Aeris asked, looking at Sephiroth.

Genesis watched, fascinated, as they exchanged a gaze.

‘Champagne would be fine,’ he said in a curt tone.

Aeris nodded. ‘I’ll be right back, then,’ she said. Genesis caught her eye and nodded at her, hoping she would understand that he wanted to help her. She gave him a small smile, nodded back at him. Then she left, taking worryingly unstable strides in those heels of hers.

They were just two in the booth now. Sephiroth was already looking over the golden balustrade at the stage down below again. Genesis took off his blazer and reclined in one of the armchairs with a sigh.

‘You know,’ he said. ‘If you want me to leave or something when she comes back – you can say so.’

Sephiroth was still for a moment, before looking down into his lap.

‘I’m really not in the mood,’ he admitted. Then he glanced at Genesis, eyes glowing. ‘If you want to me to leave, however. I can.’

Genesis shook his head, heart pounding with surprise. ‘You’re the one who has an arrangement with her,’ he said.

‘You’re the one who introduced her to me,’ Sephiroth shot back. ‘I never really asked to know what was between you beforehand – nor do I want to know,’ he added.

Genesis tilted his head. ‘Would it bother you? If she saw me in that capacity?’

Sephiroth raked his silver hair away from his eyes, blazer creasing around his arms. 

‘I’ve not really thought about it,’ he said. ‘I suppose of all the men she sees – you would be the one I would have the least issues with.’

Genesis smirked. ‘Our conversations always do wonders for my self-esteem.’

There was a sudden _swoosh_ of magic below them – they both turned, looking down at the stage as a glittering tunnel took form over the catwalk. It was a Silence spell, protecting the public from any type of magic that would be performed onstage, wide enough to give a little leeway and allow the spells to soar above their heads. The music had slowed to a primal pounding, synthetic notes dropping over the grinding bass as lightly as rain. The Soldiers’ faces became awash in an orange glow as a huge Fire spell flew across the room, branching out and crackling across the ceiling in a burst of sound and heat. The Seconds all yelled out and clapped gleefully. Sephiroth and Genesis watched as the flames gradually fizzled out. There was a woman, alone, kneeling in the middle of the stage with her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed. She raised her head slowly as the rhythm accelerated. There was a rumble of drums, and her body followed the movement, snaking up, arms uncrossing and reaching out on either side.

She was a sight to see among the dripping flames, her entire body strewn with little else than jewels, the ripple of heat making her seem unreal. As she danced, she would throw Fire spells from side to side, clearly illustrating the birth of the Calamity. Genesis leaned into Sephiroth’s side, muttering what he understood of the story as the show went on. A gaggle of dancers in fluttery, pastel fabrics appeared on the other end of the stage, and the narrative began – the Calamity reined in her magic, retreating to observe as the dancers worked together and illustrated different scenes of Cetran life and worship, bringing in hoops and long trailing poi to add to the dance.

Aeris reappeared at their table, tray in hand. Genesis got up to take the tray from her when he saw how her legs were wobbling in her heels. He set it down on the table, took the champagne flutes out of the ice bucket and placed them the right way up. Then, a hiss of curtain hooks dragged across his ears – he glanced over his shoulder, frowning as he watched Aeris closing the heavy velvet around them.

Aeris turned back to them, saw the question in Genesis’s eye. She smiled.

‘We have an hour of privacy,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry?’ Genesis asked, whilst Sephiroth looked over at them quizzically.

‘You bought champagne, so you’re entitled to a dance and any kind of special attention you might ask for,’ Aeris explained. He could tell she was different, somehow – like she was using her customer service voice on him or something.

‘Mm,’ Genesis said. ‘I hadn’t entirely realised that when I asked for champagne.’

‘We can just watch the show otherwise,’ Aeris said, glancing over at Sephiroth. ‘No big deal.’

Sephiroth tilted his head back casually. ‘How much is the champagne?’

‘Two thousand gil,’ Aeris said.

Sephiroth raised his eyebrows at his friend.

‘You bought it,’ he said to Genesis. ‘If you want to make the most of it, go ahead.’

He seemed bent on uncovering whether or not Genesis and Aeris were capable of any kind of intimacy together. Maybe this was some kind of test of Genesis’s character, or perhaps of Aeris’s. Or perhaps even his own. Maybe Sephiroth was so afraid of the idea that Aeris might have some control over him that he wanted to show just how little she affected him, even in this heavily eroticized context. But seeing what Aeris was wearing, and the general lovestruck mood Genesis had been in ever since that sunlit morning he’d spent with her, Genesis found that he didn’t really care whether this was one of Sephiroth’s little mind games.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ he said, smiling at Aeris.

Genesis sat on the opposite side of the table from Sephiroth, raising a hand towards her as an invitation. There was enough space between the small circular table and the couches for a dancer to kneel and move around, so Aeris stepped up to him, gazing down at him with that professional smoulder of hers. Then she turned around and sat in his lap, leaning over the table so she could serve the champagne for them.

Genesis let his hands light on her waist, feeling the glittery fabric of her dress. He wondered if she was afraid at all, to be sharing this tiny space with two of the deadliest men on the planet.

A silence settled as the first act of the show came to a close.

• • •


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this whole plot point was a big mess in the first draft, but now that I've rewritten it I'm kind of scared that I've made it an even bigger mess. x) The changes are essential for later plot points and for generally smoothing out the overall story, but... if the chapter makes your suspension of disbelief kind of snap, please tell me and I'll see what I can do. :'D (Can you tell I have like zero confidence in this rewrite at this point)

• • •

Sephiroth watched as the girl poured champagne. She held the bottle correctly, waited for the froth to go down before adding more. The flow wasn’t perfect, though – she seemed too preoccupied to hold the bottle still. He could see how much she was straining to keep up whatever character she was playing.

She put down the bottle, handed him his glass. He took it from her, fingers brushing hers. Her hands were shaking. He looked at her.

She smiled. That was rare. He took in the curve of her lips, fleetingly recalled what they felt like against his fingertips.

‘If you’d like me to include you in the dance at any moment,’ she told him, ‘just say the word.’

‘Noted.’

She nodded, then leaned forwards to pour champagne in the two remaining glasses.

He went back to the show, reclining in his couch. 

There was a whisper of windchimes in the stillness, the lights taking on a bluish tint. Then two long panes of sky-blue silk unfurled from the ceiling, rippling and swelling as they reached down and brushed the catwalk.

The music started, something rather ponderous and dark. Little by little, as the silks continued to lower, a body began emerging from the darkness above them, all tangled up in the blue panels – the Soldiers all craned their necks, looking up and trying to decipher the position in which the body was posing. The whistling took up again in full force when it became apparent that her legs were stretched out as far as humanly possible in some kind of over-splits, calves and thighs criss-crossed by silk, a diagonal line hanging in the air. Then the silks stopped lowering, and she twisted around, unraveling herself from the silk so that she was spinning down. The applause raged, punctuated by yells of encouragement as she halted her descent by several more impossible poses.

Sephiroth was sipping champagne, enjoying the show. He was _not_ paying any attention to the way the girl was standing with her back to him, rocking her hips from side to side for Genesis’s benefit. He definitely wasn’t picking up on the hushed words between them, the fond laughter and the way Genesis would hum whenever the girl leaned closer to him. He focused on what was happening onstage, turning his head so that the girl vanished from his peripheral vision.

The Calamity completely detached herself from the silk, freefalling towards the stage – but she caught herself at the last possible moment, arms out and muscles flexing as she supported her body weight. She stepped weightlessly against the stage floor, skirting the other dancers who were kneeling in a worshipful circle as she gave herself momentum. And then she was _flying_ above their heads in a great circle, somehow managing to climb up the silks at the same time. Arms out, she opened her hands and shards of ice began falling from her palms, setting the entire room aglitter.

Gaia be damned. There was movement in his line of sight again and Sephiroth looked before he could stop himself.

The girl had one foot up on the couch next to Genesis’s thigh, probably giving him a rather pleasant view in the process. It was… not an altogether unpleasant view from where Sephiroth was sitting, either. He breathed out through his nose, allowing himself to follow the blue lights curving down her backside and thighs. The lights caught the red ribbons that hid her garter clips, slid all the way down her legs like liquid Mako. Those stockings… they reminded him of a pair he’d ripped during one of their sessions. He’d flogged her so hard that the nylon hadn’t stood a chance. He still remembered the purple shade of the bruises she’d worn on the backs of thighs, up until he’d Cured them away.

There were moments – after the pain stopped, after everything went quiet. She’d lie there, breathing slowly, her body relaxing after the tenseness of anticipation. She would be puffy-faced and frowning, her cheeks pink. In those moments he would caress the skin he’d bruised, and she would sigh, make those tortured little noises he had come to love. There was nothing quite like that soft silence, the only moments where she would arch into his touch, as though she needed the reassurance of it.

He had completely forgotten what was going on down below, now. She tossed her braid over one shoulder and he watched as it slanted down her spine. Then she turned around and sat in Genesis’s lap. His gaze met hers, and he kept watching, one hand absently caressing the leather of his armrest as she tilted her head back, still looking at him as she bared her throat. As if inviting him to bite her, or to trail a finger from her chin down into the plumpness of her cleavage.

She began to grind against Genesis’s lap, still gazing coolly at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth breathed in.

A pair of hands came around her, climbed over her breasts and squeezed, plumpness spilling around each finger. She only smiled and closed her eyes, as though she were blocking out all reminders that Sephiroth was watching in order to enjoy Genesis’s hands on her.

He wouldn’t have thought that she could arouse him even in his solemn end-of-year mood. But apparently she could. At least, she was arousing his anger. Which was the same thing as making him want to pin her down against the couch cushions and fuck her as retribution for this shameless little show.

He wondered how far she would take it. How far she would go just to rile him up. Since he’d started paying to see her, she hadn’t done anything to taunt him – on the contrary, she would do exactly as they specified beforehand and only go off-script to ask for water or other such comforts. He thought she was too afraid to repeat the kind of attitude that he had reacted so badly to, in the beginning. But now…

Perhaps it was a show of trust? Perhaps she felt comfortable and safe enough in their arrangement to blatantly provoke him like this. The idea was strangely flattering to him. Hm. He hadn’t expected that.

He took out a cigarette, wedged it between his lips, infused the tip with crackling red heat. She was reclining against Genesis now – one of his hands had begun trailing down her belly, dragging the folds of her dress down between her thighs. She tilted her head back against his shoulder and he kept his face against her hair, lips open against the translucent cartilage of her ear. He seemed to be whispering something to her, making her smile. Then he dipped two fingers between her thighs, pressing against her sex through the dress and Sephiroth could feel his cock stirring at the sight of them.

Genesis opened his eyes. They were only open a sliver, but he was looking straight at Sephiroth. Eyelids the colour of burnished copper, irises glowing a pale, iridescent blue. The message was clear: _do you like what you see?_

Sephiroth’s free hand balled into a fist.  

The girl pushed away from Genesis, giving him a cheeky smile before getting up. Slowly, with all the grace of a woman who knows exactly how to tease, she leaned over the table, placed her hands on the surface, met Sephiroth’s gaze like it was the easiest thing in the world. She arched her back, clearly giving Genesis a generous view of what was beneath her dress. Then she started moving her hips slowly from side to side just to whet his appetite, all while staring haughtily at Sephiroth like he couldn’t possibly touch her.

He observed her for a moment. Breathed out a lungful of sugary smoke. She blinked as the cloud curled around her throat and settled in her hair. It was interesting how her resolve would visibly melt away the longer she looked at him – there were small signs, a furrow in her brow, a shy flutter of lashes as she remembered why she usually avoided his gaze. When she finally looked away, he shifted to the edge of his seat and reached forwards. Dipped two fingers in his champagne glass and slid them across her slick, bitten lips. When she parted them for him, he inserted his fingers into the wet warmth of her mouth, fingertips burrowing against her soft tongue. She frowned, concentrating on keeping back her gag reflex as he went deeper.

Too deep. She glared at him, bit down hard to force him to stop.

He smiled. Retreated a little. Then she closed her eyes, making a choked sound around his fingers as Genesis touched her through her knickers. Sephiroth caught the way her knees buckled, the way her weight shifted onto her arms to compensate.

Oh, she was in over her head now.

He slid his fingers out of her mouth and cupped her chin.

‘Look at me,’ he said.

She complied.

‘Good,’ he said. ’Now. Do you want to do this with the both of us, or are you just trying to tease me?’

She breathed for a moment without replying. Then Genesis clearly must’ve done something, rubbed her clit or slid a finger inside her, because she frowned, eyes squeezing shut again. Her lips parted, letting out a little whimper.

‘Chimera,’ Sephiroth warned. He had to make a conscious effort to keep his expression flat, so as not to betray the fact that he was completely gorging himself on the sight of her.

She opened her eyes again, blinked up at him.

‘I asked you a question,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she muttered.

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, I want to do this – ’ A gasp, a tilt of the hips. ‘I want to do this with both of you.’

Sephiroth slid his hand into her hair, fingers gathering around the thick base of her braid and balling into a fist. Her head followed his movement, chin tilting up, eyes squinting through the painful pull of it.

‘Have you done this before?’ he asked.

‘No.’ 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I would’ve thought, with your career… you must’ve catered to the whims of the bizarre more than once.’

Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

‘So you’re admitting to being bizarre?’ she asked. It came out hushed, intimate.

He responded in kind, smiling a slippery smile. ‘I always have.’

He reclined in his couch, a clear signal for her to come over to his side of the table. She straightened up with a little difficulty, turning to stroke Genesis’s hair, perhaps as some token of gratitude. The redhead gazed up at her adoringly, hands lingering on her hips until she broke away. Sephiroth recognized the devotional expression that Genesis used to wear for the Zolom. There was something there, he was sure of it, however much Genesis might lie about his and Chimera’s relationship.

Then she was standing in front of him and it became increasingly hard to pay attention to anything else but her. Casually, she took her untouched champagne flute from the table and sipped some as she swayed to the music. The lights changed from blue to red – something was probably happening onstage, but nobody around that table was paying any attention to it. The lighting was already very dark, but now they seemed to be plunged in a pulsing red microcosm, crimson leaking from every molecule in the air. She became otherworldly in the red lights, eyes shining like some feral thing.

 The tobacco seeping from his lungs formed a scented mist all around them. He imagined it pillowing her body, pressing against her like a manifestation of his own intent. She moved, sliding her hands over her bosom and down her belly as she danced slowly. Genesis got up, circling the table with champagne flute in hand as he watched her from different angles. He seemed in awe somehow, holding back, not nearly as daring as Sephiroth would’ve imagined him in such a context. For all the orgies Genesis had described to him, he seemed almost meek now, even as he was presented with this golden opportunity.

The girl turned around, lowered herself onto Sephiroth’s lap. She hovered over him, hands flattening over his knees to hold herself there, fingertips skidding over the bone. There was… something about her perfume, something about the weight of her hands and how close she was without leaning against him properly.  It was intoxicating. After a few seconds of merely brushing against his thighs, she finally sat down, the hard length of his cock slotting between her thighs under the fabric. He kept one hand on the armrest, his cigarette turning to a column of ash as he stared at her back. She – _moved_ against his erection and the pressure of it was almost too intense after the previous feathery contact. He let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes. Her body rippled against his, dragging her weight up and down his cock. He bit his lip, tilted his head for a better angle. Something caught his eye, and he glanced to the side, catching a glimpse of Genesis who was openly staring at him. The redhead immediately sipped his champagne, as though caught doing something he shouldn’t.

The girl stood back up again after what simultaneously felt like ages and not nearly long enough. Immediately he felt almost bereft of her warm weight, her earthy scent. He reached up, placed a hand on her waist. She turned around to face him and sank one knee onto the couch. Then she straddled his thighs, her body hovering far too close to his face for him to quell the mounting desire to sink his teeth into her.

She took his cigarette from him, twisted around so she could put it out in the ashtray. He watched her body move, the way her dress stretched over her breasts and waist. Then she was facing him again and he straightened, burying his face in her neck, breathing her in as he slid his hands up the length of her back. With the way she was straddling him, his cock was buried in her satin-clad mound, trousers straining to keep him contained. There was some kind of – _relief_ at being close to her again, like he had missed her more than he would care to admit. He sighed against her neck as it washed over him.

Gaia, when had he started responding so wantonly to her?

She placed her hands along his jaw, and he withdrew so that she could trail her fingertips along his mouth. Her hands were so small. Fragile. The red lights shone on her glassy fingernails, and he remembered the feeling of those nails planted in his back, scraping bloody vengeance down his skin. Claws masquerading under pretty nail polish.

He slid his hands along her thighs, under the hem of her dress. Her skin was… Gaia, it was so smooth. He followed the garters up to the garter belt, and then further up to her waist. He closed his hands around those soft angles, sinking into her body, testing the elasticity of her skin. Her ribs rose against his palms, hard and unyielding under such a soft, stretchy expanse.

He needed to see it. Needed to see all of her. He turned towards Genesis and pushed her so that she slid off of him, landing in the middle of the couch. Genesis sat against the opposite armrest, legs open, inviting her to lean back against him. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and something passed between them, some kind of silent communication. Then she hung her head, accepting surrender. 

There was the sound of a zipper being undone, sibilance ringing in Sephiroth’s ears as Genesis unzipped her dress all the way down her back. He brushed the fluttery sleeves down her arms, kissing her bare shoulder as he pulled glittery red synthetics over her breasts. She leaned back against his chest, goosebumps spreading over her bared skin. Then the dress was a crumpled heap around her waist, and Sephiroth reached for it, pulling it all the way down her legs.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her bare chest heaved a little as she panted, eyes closed as she clearly entered that zone of mindless anticipation. Genesis snaked an arm under her breasts, holding her firmly against him. Sephiroth glanced at him, wondering for a moment at how easily they had slipped into this context. But the girl was lying before him, practically offering herself to the both of them. It was far too difficult to think of anything else.

The moment was so unique, so peculiar, that it was so very easy to pretend that those curtains shut everything else out – the past, the future, every rational little detail that should’ve separated them. There was something uncanny about the way a few square metres of burgundy velvet could wrap them up in a world of pure fantasy. Sephiroth reached for the champagne bucket, took out an ice cube. He touched it against the space just under the girl’s chin to get her used to the cold. Her body tensed up immediately, arching towards him. He trailed the ice cube down her throat, and she squirmed at the cold path it left. Her nipples peaked before he’d even reached them, so when he rubbed the wet ice against them she grasped Genesis’s forearm, nails digging into his skin. Sephiroth leaned forwards, pressed his open mouth over one cold nipple, sucked it up against the heat of his tongue. He would alternate between ice and heat and she came undone, squirming and arching up for him.

‘If you want us to stop at any moment, just say so,’ Genesis murmured into her ear.

He was speaking too quietly for anyone but a First to hear him over the music. Sephiroth glanced up at them as he drew icy circles around the girl’s nipples. Her head was turned to the side, lips tantalizingly close to Genesis’s.

‘I’m fine,’ she whispered back. ‘I promise.’

‘Mm,’ Genesis purred. ‘Do you like what he’s doing to you?’

The girl breathed out slowly. Sephiroth leaned in, took one nipple between his teeth, watched as she bit her lip and nuzzled Genesis’s jaw.

‘Yes,’ she hissed.

Genesis turned a little so that he could kiss her full on the mouth. Sephiroth watched how he would lick the slopes of her lips, sink his tongue into her mouth and force her jaw to strain open. He’d never… tried that. There was so much that he needed – _needed_ to feel.

As soon as she broke away from Genesis, he moved closer to them both, his face hovering near theirs. The three of them breathed the same bubble of air for a moment, the girl still completely zoned out from overstimulation whilst Genesis seemed acutely aware of Sephiroth’s proximity. The two Firsts shared a glance – again, Sephiroth could read something like awe and disbelief in Genesis’s expression. He glanced down at the slick curves of Genesis’s mouth and there was that same need to touch, to bite, to devour. It was becoming an all-consuming urge, to know what their mouths tasted like, how their skin felt and how they would react to his touch.  He was getting dizzy, his hands shaking as they slid over the girl’s shoulder and encountered Genesis’s long, slender neck.

Gaia, that was something else. Genesis’s skin was so warm to the touch compared to the girl’s. Then again, he knew Soldiers were naturally warmer because of the changes their bodies went through. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched him – it was inevitable to live in close contact with one’s fellows during war. But there was something about this atmosphere, this mood. He was fascinated.

Sephiroth sank his fingers into Genesis’s hair, reveling in the silkiness of it. Then he leaned his forehead against his friend’s. The contours of Genesis’s lips shone, parted as they were in an open invitation. The girl was nipping at Sephiroth’s neck, her mouth wet and soft against the column of his throat. He thought he might erupt just because of this – this teetering on the brink, this delicious restraint.

‘Sephiroth,’ the redhead murmured.

‘Mmm.’

‘Are you sure?’

It was an odd question. Like asking a drowning man if he was sure he wanted to breathe. Sephiroth had never needed anything more in his life – to feel them both, to devour them, to break himself against them like a wave over jagged rocks. He frowned, suddenly afraid that the firebrand would refuse him the contact he so desperately sought.

He touched his lips to Genesis’s instead of answering. They were satisfyingly plump, though the edges were harder than the girl’s. Then Genesis pressed his tongue against Sephiroth’s lower lip and a shiver ran through him, sending goosebumps all over his body. He bunched his fingers in Genesis’s hair, holding his head in place as he pressed their mouths together. He had to have more – that texture, the heat and wetness of Genesis’s tongue. His cock was bulging against his trousers but he was too caught up in the kiss to be able to multi-task.

Genesis moaned against him. _Moaned_ , deep in his throat, a needy kind of sound that only fueled Sephiroth’s desire. He was lost in the slippery contours of Genesis’s mouth, the way the redhead would lead him when he fell out of synch or failed to open his mouth enough. It was part-way between fascination at discovering a new skill and utterly thoughtless lust, making him go on even after he had no breath left, even after Genesis placed a hand around the hollow of his throat and half-heartedly tried to push him away.

It was too much. He couldn’t think. He was on the brink of some kind of abyss where thought no longer existed, where carnal satisfaction was the only thing he cared about. For a second, he realised where he was headed and felt almost terrified of how far he could go.

Then the girl unbuckled his belt and slid her hands into his trousers, and he fell head-first into the abyss.

 

Aeris lay there flushed and panting, arms up around Genesis’s shoulders. Her hair was strewn across her face, sticking to the wet bulges of her parted lips, and the red lights painted a bloody passion over her mouth as she caught her breath.

Sephiroth’s hair was all over her body – caught between her breasts, curled around Genesis’s forearms, fanning out over her belly. He moved slowly above her, as though he were appreciating every slippery inch of her as he slid in and out. His eyes were squeezed shut in an expression of abandon that she had never seen before. She was so busy staring at his pleasure-warped expression that she only had a vague idea of what position he was in – one arm was braced against the back of the couch, one leg on the floor for better balance as he fucked her. 

With Genesis playing with her nipples and biting her neck, Aeris was completely high on a concoction of pure arousal and the adrenaline of fear. It was difficult as ever to keep her mission at the forefront of her mind when the option of sinking into their attentions was so very tempting. For the first time, she found herself arching up to meet Sephiroth’s hips because it felt good, it felt _so good,_ and she needed to feel him deeper – when he hit the right spot she threw her head back against Genesis’s shoulder, biting back her screams.

It had been selfish to involve Genesis in something that would compromise his emotional state like this. She had only decided to keep him here out of fear that Sephiroth would become unmanageable under the Entice spell, but it was unfair. She knew how he felt about Sephiroth. Part of her felt completely wretched at pushing his friendship with Sephiroth to the limit like this, but she’d made her decisions in the heat of the moment, doing the best she could in an unmanageable situation. She knew this whole thing probably hadn’t been the sanest option to take. But technically, he could’ve left at any moment. He could still leave. Though she really hoped he wouldn’t.

Sephiroth slid out of her with warning and sat back against his armrest. His erection traced a wet path across his shirt as it hit his belly. He gazed at Aeris with that completely wanton look of his, the one he’d adopted since reaching the peak of the spell. Eyes like cracked glass, mouth parted. Aeris looked down at his cock, then back up at his face. The body language was pretty clear. Genesis let go of her, having understood it just as well as she had. Aeris fell forwards on all fours, head between Sephiroth’s thighs. He just had to curl his fingers into her hair and push her head down to complete the request.

She could taste her juices on him as she took him into her mouth. He let her find her rhythm – she had already told him off once about how uncomfortable it was for him to guide her head. She found it oddly pleasing that he remembered that, even in his enchanted state.

The red lights enveloped him, painting the knotted muscles of his forearms and the glistening length of his cock. Aeris could feel Genesis’s hands on her bare bottom, spreading her cheeks – then he flicked his tongue against her soaking folds and she arched her back, moaning around the thick shaft in her mouth. Sephiroth stretched under her, head tilting back against the headrest, apparently appreciating the vibrations of her voice around his cock. She could feel her heart rattling her ribs like some wild thing trying to get out as Genesis’s mouth melted against her. A cold finger followed the path of his tongue through her folds, finding her swollen bud and the noises she was making became one uninterrupted moan.

It was particularly difficult to do this with Genesis’s tongue wedged between the slick petals of her sex, but she kept an eye on Sephiroth anyway, trying to find the right moment. She could feel the promise of satisfaction burgeoning, making her quiver – she tried to focus on brushing her teeth and nails against Sephiroth’s cock, getting him used to a sharper contact whilst Genesis antagonized her with light strokes of his tongue, adhering to her as though he were licking ice.

Sephiroth seemed completely beside himself as she pressed her nails into the delicate skin of his cock – he was stroking her hair, bucking his hips against her, head still tilted back and eyes closed. He wasn’t looking.  

It was the right moment.

Her breathing was already hampered by the cock in her mouth, so the adrenaline rush was the final straw. She kept her gaze fixed on Sephiroth, forgetting what breathing was even for as she reached for her pendant with her free hand. It kept slipping out of her grip, she was trembling so hard. Once she held it firmly enough with her thumb in the right position, she slid it up against the bulging base of his cock, pretending she was using it to stimulate him. He moaned, his head rolling left and right on the armrest. She sucked him harder as he panted, clearly climbing up the build-up. If she used it when he came… surely he would be too beside himself to notice.

She felt Genesis withdraw. It was better to have less distractions, but still – that man had a way with his tongue... anyway. She felt him straighten up behind her, perhaps to watch as Sephiroth writhed and panted his way towards orgasm. Then Sephiroth gasped, his whole body tensing as he held his breath for a few seconds. Aeris kept the same rhythm until he let out a completely animalistic groan, thrusting his cock up into her throat as he came.

She had no idea how she managed to multi-task the next part. All at once, she tried not to choke as he shot his seed into her throat, kept bobbing her head up and down, clamped her nails around the base of his cock and angled her pendant properly. She knew how he came – he would thrust and keep still, thrust and keep still, so she waited for him to tense up again. When he did, she pressed the button.

It was done in seconds. The full vial dropped from her fingers as she sucked him gently until he finished. Then she swallowed and broke away, gasping for breath around the strings of saliva and come that connected her mouth to his cock.

He lay there for a moment, panting and threading his fingers through his pubic hair, pressing around his erection as he basked in the afterglow. Aeris settled back against the couch, wiping her mouth and breathing hard. She glanced over at Genesis, who was kneeling there rubbing himself through his fancy pressed trousers. He looked completely hypnotized. He leaned towards her, smiling at her through the haze of arousal, and proceeded to lick the smears of come around her mouth. It was an obscene gesture and yet surprisingly tender. She nipped at his mouth playfully, so he kissed her, inserting his tongue into her mouth and moaning as he tasted Sephiroth’s come.

She was too beside herself with adrenaline to even care how obscenely they were behaving. She accepted his kisses, holding onto him weakly, her whole body trembling. On the one hand she desperately needed for one of them to give her her own orgasm, but on the other she needed this whole thing to just _stop_. There was too much going on, too many sensations at once.

Genesis pressed his forehead against hers, cupping her cheeks. She held onto his wrists, wondering how he felt, whether he saw this whole thing as a rare blessing or something he would regret.

‘I need to take a break,’ he murmured.

She tightened her grasp on his wrists.

‘Are you going to be OK if I leave?’ he asked.

She owed him at least a breather. She smiled up at him weakly. ‘Yeah,’ she muttered. ‘Just five minutes, or are you leaving for good?’

‘I’m just going to have a smoke,’ he said. ‘Twenty minutes tops.’

‘OK.’

She watched him get up, straightening his clothes as he cast a lingering glance at Sephiroth’s completely shameless pose. Then he turned and exited their small decadent microcosm through the curtains.

Aeris felt the nervousness of being suddenly alone with Sephiroth like clamps around her ribcage. She stared down at him, trying to gauge whether the spell was still working on him or not. She suddenly realised that she had no idea how to _stop_ the spell – she had set it into motion but was no longer controlling it at all.

He extended a hand, clearly inviting her to lie down against him for some travesty of a post-coital cuddle. Aeris’s heart started pounding uncomfortably hard. They had never done that before.

She obediently shifted closer between his thighs and lay down along the length of his body, curling one arm against herself as she nestled her head under his chin. He held her around the shoulders for a moment before caressing her back, hand following the curve of her spine down to her backside.

He gave a soft hum as he explored her body, cupping her backside and sliding his fingers between her cheeks. She closed her eyes. She was soaking wet thanks to Genesis and his goddamned tongue – she’d been so close to orgasm when he’d stopped that it was almost maddening. It would probably take just three seconds of clitoral stimulation for her to come at this point. And while she’d never wanted to give Sephiroth that – Gaia, she needed it so badly.

He found the junction, slid his fingers across her wetness and she arched up for him mindlessly. She bit back a whimper as he toyed with her entrance, tracing the slippery rim. Higher – just an inch higher and he would touch her just where she needed him to.

Her ears were beginning to fill with a queer ringing. She could hear something that sounded peculiarly like… whispers. Voices. But she was too distracted to pay much attention to them in her state. He thrust three fingers inside her and she gasped.

She gripped his neck, burying her face into his hair as he hooked his fingers against her inner walls. With his free hand he stroked the swell of her breast, and Aeris whined softly, her mind spinning.

 _Run,_ came a whisper in a wordless tongue. _Run, child._

 He was panting by her ear, his voice hoarse. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of her. After a moment he withdrew and slid further down, catching the bulge of her clit between his fingers and rubbing it in small circles.

Aeris opened her mouth against his neck. Her veins seemed to fill with champagne as he touched her, and hardly a few seconds had gone by before pure bliss crashed through her defenses. She wasn’t even conscious of her actions as she ground against his fingers and pressed her face against his neck, breathing in ragged gasps as it went on and on. Her heart was racing far ahead of anything that was deemed as healthy and she felt like it would never end. When it finally fizzled out she lay limply against him, all the strength having left her body.

The ringing in her ears grew louder as she held onto him and tried to recuperate. But he had other plans. He shifted so that she spilled onto the couch, grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head. When he penetrated her she felt like she could cry from the pure satisfaction of it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her hips for him without even thinking about the blood-filled vial that rolled across her chest.

There was something completely reckless about the way he moved and handled her. Normally he would dole out exactly the amount of pain or pleasure that he wanted. Here… he was uncoordinated, breathless, desperate. The spell was clearly still messing with his head. Aeris should’ve made him stop, should’ve tried to make him calm down somehow. But she was on another plane entirely, her thoughts clouded, her eyes glittery with pleasure.

Sephiroth’s breaths were beginning to sound more animal than human now, dragging audibly down his throat. His hips slowed, so she tried to keep going, rocking her hips back and forth but his face broke into a frown, as though he were in pain. His brow was shining with sweat, the whites of his eyes smudged with crimson. She felt very keenly at that moment, how terrifying it was for someone as powerful as him to lose control of his own body.

‘Sephiroth?’ she asked groggily. ‘What is it? Are you alright?’

He pressed a hand against his eyes as though battling a migraine. Aeris shifted her hips, letting him slide out of her so that they could sit in front of one another.

‘Sephiroth,' she prompted him. He knelt there, his head in his hands, clearly not receptive to her. 'Sephiroth, look at me. Are you OK?'

He looked down at her and his pupils had turned to slits.

The ringing in her ears was getting a little too persistent. Too loud, as shrill as screams. Her lungs were beginning to close up. She vaguely remembered that he had made her feel like this once before – he’d been unconscious then. And he was getting close to that state now, too.

A word pushed into her mind as he stared down at her, a word made of images and pain and blood and she felt the colour drain from her face.

He was speaking in the Cetran tongue.

It was impossible. Nobody knew the language any more. Nobody seemed to have the capacity for non-verbal, telepathic languages – she’d tried to teach it to Elmyra, but it was utterly impossible to explain.

Her mind filled with pale ghostly bodies who had bloody holes in their chests, and she understood the accusation, _Cetra, disgusting, worthless –_ he remained poised there, staring, immobile as the images assaulted her. There was something terrifying about his stillness. She couldn’t breathe. The panic was taking over. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind assaulted with images of carnage, pink glistening masses of flesh and guts twisting together into a wall of horrors. She tried to wipe at her eyes but it was useless, of course. The images were inside her head.

_Drink the blood of humankind. Drink the blood of the Planet._

‘Stop it,’ she whimpered. ‘Please, stop it – ’

It didn’t feel anything like when her mother used to talk to her. It was an intrusion rather than a conversation, like someone shouting directly into her ear rather than talking. And there was… something about the images and emotions she was being given. Something altogether non-human. The edges were frayed and nebulous like she was seeing through monstrous eyes.

 _Run,_ screamed the Planet. _RUN._

Acting on a mindless impulse, Aeris grasped his head and focused her Healing Winds onto him. Quivering energy looped around her hands, a vaporous bliss searching for another soul to repair - it seeped into him, a life-bringing sap uniting both their bodies in a soothing spell. His face twisted in pain, and he bared his teeth as the magic filled him. It wasn’t supposed to be a painful spell, Aeris had used it on countless slummers before and none of them had reacted this badly. Then again, she’d never cast her Healing Winds on someone who had all the traits of _demonic possession._

The veil of magic seemed to turn to lead as soon as she entered into symbiosis with him. It trapped them in, holding them together and she found that her fingers were digging into his forehead as she fought for breath. The voices were attacking her headspace and she tried to reason with them, tried to protest, _I’m not weak – I can handle him – I won’t run this time - I WON’T RUN -_

They were rising, spinning, spinning out of control, and she gritted her teeth, holding onto him as tightly as she could. It wasn’t normal, there was some kind of obstacle, the same one that had made her give herself to blind panic, but she wouldn’t let that happen now – she could overcome this. Whatever it was, she would help him through it, help herself through it. No point in claustrophobia. This was her spell. She was in control.

After what felt like forever, just as she felt like her teeth would sink up into her gums if she gritted them any longer, she felt like her and her partner broke through some sort of plateau – and, all of a sudden, they were drifting. It was like she’d been emptied of all substance – instead of pulsing, pounding innards she seemed to be filled with feathers.

Sephiroth closed his eyes. His face relaxed, and his whole body went limp. When Aeris let go of him, he fell against her heavily and lay there, looking perfectly unconscious.

In the next second there were hands on his shoulders, wrenching him off of her. Aeris scrambled out from under him, glancing up to find Genesis pulling Sephiroth up into a sitting position.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ he asked her. ‘What did he do? What did _you_ do?’

Aeris wiped her tears away before grabbing her dress from between the couch cushions.

‘When did you come in?’ she asked between sniffs.

Genesis was holding Sephiroth up, listening to his breathing, feeling for a pulse.

‘Just – a minute ago,’ he said. ‘I listened to see if I wouldn’t be interrupting anything, and I heard you telling him to stop. So I came in and you were – doing whatever magic that was. Some kind of Curaga?’

‘Yeah,’ Aeris lied.

 ‘I can hardly feel his pulse,’ he said disbelievingly. ‘Seriously, Aeris. That wasn’t standard magic. What the hell did you do?’

She pulled her dress over her head and went to the balustrade, checked to see where the show was at. It seemed to be the final part, with the nomads celebrating their victory over the Calamity. Snow should be in the dressing rooms.

‘I have to go and do something,’ she said to Genesis. ‘I’ll be right back up, I promise.’

‘Aeris, you need to _tell me,_ ’ Genesis warned. But she marched to the curtains and slid between them without even looking back.

•

Genesis tried everything – Curaga, Esuna, even took out a Phoenix Down from the little pouch he always carried around with him, a habit that was far too ingrained in him to discard in civilian contexts. He unbuttoned Sephiroth’s shirt, sprinkled the golden fluff over him. The down glowed a bright orange as it drifted over Sephiroth’s heart, and then dissipated, provoking absolutely no change whatsoever.

Gritting his teeth, Genesis at least tucked the guy’s manhood back into his pants before arranging him in the recovery position, making sure his mouth was open to facilitate breathing and his hair was away from his face. He went to the curtains once Sephiroth was properly secured and took out his phone. Stared down at the number for the labs. The Firsts didn’t have the luxury of being able to call private medical assistance – no one could have access to their bodies other than Hojo and Hollander’s assistants. It was just company policy, but as they were both more than a little averse to unnecessarily spending time in the labs, they always tried to take care of whatever problem they had rather than immediately calling for help.

Genesis glanced over at Sephiroth’s limp, lifeless body. The only times he’d seen him this weak were during their Mako come-downs, back when they shot up daily during the war. It didn’t look good at all. He stared down at his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘call’ button. Fuck it. He didn’t care if Sephiroth would be mad at him when he woke up – the only thing that counted was that he _woke up._

• 

It was a nightmare. Aeris felt like she was walking through a sex-drenched _nightmare_ as she scurried barefoot down the stairs, heels dangling from one hand. She marched through the bar, found Gem entertaining a group of men who were chortling and alternating between giving her tips and knocking back their whisky. Aeris caught her eye, motioned to her that she’d come and see her in a minute. Gem nodded at her over the heads of her clients, frowning as though to say, _what have you gotten yourself into now?_

The doors to the dressing rooms slammed open as Aeris went through. She charged to the main dancer’s room, banged on the door with a full fist.

Snow opened with a regal slowness. Her body was covered in a thin layer of crushed crystals that served as a dress, a long glittering trail dragging behind her so that she looked like Shiva incarnate.

‘You were successful?’ she asked.

‘You need to tell me how to stop it,’ Aeris panted. ‘How to stop the spell.’

Snow regarded her coolly.

‘The Entice spell?’

‘Yes,’ Aeris said, automatically glancing beyond her in the lavish dressing room to check for any eavesdroppers. ‘He just kind of – completely lost his mind. I don’t know what to do.’

Snow glanced down at her pendant.

‘Did you complete the mission?’ she asked.

Impatiently, Aeris took the vial between her fingers, twisted it so Snow could see the contents.

‘Give me the vial, and I’ll break the spell for you,’ Snow said.

Oh, Gaia. Of course she would do something like this. Of course.

‘I can’t,’ Aeris muttered. ‘It needs to go to Avalanche. And he’s – _unconscious,_ for Gaia’s sake.’

‘It will go to Avalanche,’ Snow said. ‘Just as soon as the terms are met.’

She held out her hand.

‘I _can’t_ ,’ Aeris hissed.

‘Men have died from that spell,’ Snow told her. ‘It drives them to such ravenous madness that their minds can’t take it. They simply break.’

‘And you couldn’t have told me that _before_ I cast it?’ Aeris seethed.

A silence passed between them. Aeris stared at her outstretched hand, trying to weigh the pros and cons, but all she could see was those horrifying images. And Sephiroth’s alien eyes. It had felt like he’d vacated his own body. Like something else had temporarily taken control. She could still taste her terror at the back of her throat.

She took off her necklace, let the golden chain pool into Snow’s hand. Then she reached for her garter, undid the materia from where she’d hidden it behind one of the bows.  

‘Thank you,’ Snow said as she clasped the necklace around her throat. Once Aeris had given her the Enemy Skill materia, she cupped the small purple orb in her hands, closing her eyes. Aeris could feel energy around them, radiating softly. She looked at the glowing orb of materia, as though she would see the spell fall to the ground in a curling mist.

‘It’s done,’ Snow said.

‘Thanks,’ Aeris breathed, and then turned to leave. ‘Just – wait for me, OK? I want to come with you to deliver it.’

Snow bowed her head. ‘I will wait.’

•

Gem was waiting for her by the double doors when Aeris burst out.

‘The fuck’s going on?’ the older woman said as Aeris took her elbow and led her further away.

‘Don’t let her leave without me,’ she said, eyes wide. ‘Just – distract her, talk to her, I don’t know. I need to go and check something but I’ll be right back down.’

‘Chime, what – ’

‘She’s in the main dressing room,’ Aeris went on. ‘You saw where the fire exit is?’

‘Yeah, I saw it. I’ll delay her in the corridor.’

‘OK, yeah,’ muttered Aeris. ‘She’s got the necklace. Don’t – don’t let her leave.’

Gem nodded, her expression just as solemn as if she’d been asked to shoot Snow dead. Aeris nodded back, then scampered towards to the stairs again.

She didn’t trust Snow one single, solitary bit. She was half expecting Sephiroth to be just as dead to the world as when she’d left him as she got to the foot of the stairs. Gaia, hopefully Snow was trustworthy, hopefully he’d be OK… despite all that had happened between them, she was desperately, _desperately_ regretting having used that bloody good-for-nothing spell on him. Maybe she could’ve even made do without it, seeing how receptive he’d been to her before she even set the spell into motion. He’d been somehow… different tonight. More attentive. Gentle, almost.

She bumped into Genesis halfway up the stairs. He grabbed her shoulder to stabilize her, and then leaned in to tell her quietly, ‘I called for help. They’re going to be coming soon, so I’m going to wait for them outside. Are you OK to stay with him until they arrive?’

Aeris stared at him despairingly. She was about two bad decisions away from tearing her hair out.

‘I – I don’t – is he OK?’

‘Seeing as it’s been about six minutes, I’d say he’s pretty much the same,’ Genesis dead-panned. ‘Look, will you stay with him or not?’

She had to see if the spell had broken. And… part of her couldn’t stand the thought of having hurt him this badly when he’d been making efforts to identify and sort through his own issues.

‘Yeah,’ she breathed. ‘Yeah, no problem.’

Genesis squeezed her shoulder. ‘They shouldn’t be long.’

Aeris pelted up the stairs whilst Genesis hurried down to the ground floor. Thankfully there was no Zack on the environing tables, so she could reach their curtained-off table unhindered. She slid through the gap, closing it behind her.

Sephiroth was lying on the couch on his side, his head pillowed by his arm. Aeris crept over to him, making sure there were no voices and no ringing as she approached. Then she sat on the edge of the couch, laid a hand on his hip.

‘Sephiroth?’

He didn’t stir. Only kept breathing, his chest expanding slightly before collapsing again.

The bitch had lied. Or perhaps Sephiroth was simply too far gone to wake up straight away. She took in the relaxed contours of his face, the thick lashes, the straight nose, the parted lips. Knowing that she had so completely unmanned him should’ve made her glad – she could imagine Gem jumping for joy at such a perfectly executed vengeance. But Aeris just wanted it to be over, for him to open his eyes and tell her they were even. She was so tired of how her anxiety kept using her heart as a springboard whenever she was around him. They had even been making a little progress lately, so it seemed almost counterproductive to blow the whole relationship up like this all over again.

She reached for the champagne bottle and poured herself a glass. The night had been far too long already – she wasn’t about to face what came next without a little liquid courage.

•

Gem rummaged for her guns in the communal dressing rooms. It was obviously not encouraged to wear guns at her hips whilst trying to hustle clients – but the idea of approaching Snow completely unarmed did not appeal to her in the slightest. Especially if she was heading for a confrontation.

This was _not_ how she’d imagined she would meet her idol.

She slapped on her belt over the short sparkly dress she was wearing, slotted her guns at each hip. Then she strode across the room in her stilettos and checked her face in the mirror, wiping a finger at the lipstick smudges around her mouth and fluffing her hair a bit. Once she was satisfied that she looked clean and professional enough, she straightened and breathed out sharply.

Right.

Chimera needed her to do this. All she had to do was talk to Snow. And that wasn’t too bad, was it? She’d always wanted to formally meet her. It had been ridiculously hard to get close to her before the show had started, and though she’d managed to cross her in the corridors, there hadn’t been much opportunity to talk. This was her chance to make a good impression, as long as Snow played along and didn’t try to leg it.

Gem strode out into the corridor, sat down in one of the chairs and took off one of her shoes just so she could pretend she was wiping at an imaginary patch in the polish.

The show was whittling to an end, so there were dancers rushing up and down the corridor half-out of their costumes, talking among themselves about how well or how badly they thought they’d done. Gem tried not to be too obvious about how closely she was watching Snow’s door. Then, after what felt like hours worrying and imagining worst case scenarios, the door finally opened.

Gem sat up straighter. Glanced up at her in the most casual way possible. She was wearing a silver fur shrug over what looked like a dress made of crystals, and sequin-studded stilettos even higher than Gem’s.

Well. Gem just about managed to not openly stare at the woman like the love-struck idiot that she had momentarily turned into. The good news – beyond the fact that Snow looked like a goddess in six-inch heels – was that no woman in her right mind would wear fur and heels for a quick getaway. She wasn’t intending on running.

As she walked past Gem, the slum girl called out, ‘Is that Nibel wolf fur?’

Snow slowed, turned her head. ‘You have a sharp eye,’ she said.

Gem felt her chest swelling with pride. ‘I heard Nibel folk are pretty peculiar about who goes up their mountains. So it’s rare to meet someone who makes the effort of actually importing the fur instead of settling for something cheaper and closer to home.’

Snow stopped as she spoke, shoulders turned towards the slum girl. ‘I prefer authenticity over cheap imitations,’ she said.

‘Mm, if I could I would only buy the good stuff too,’ Gem said with a smile. ‘It’s a bit difficult when you live in the slums, though. Imitation becomes a way of life.’

Snow tilted her head thoughtfully. ‘I know what you mean.’

 They went on like this for a moment, talking brands – Snow knew all about the latex brands that Gem was an ambassador for, so for the first ten minutes it just felt like a conversation between old friends. Then, to Gem’s despair, Snow started mentioning that she was in a hurry and that she would be more than happy to resume the conversation another time.

‘Where do you work?’ she asked.

‘I’ve worked Upworld quite a lot,’ Gem said. She listed a couple of the most upscale places that had hired her, and Snow nodded with a pleased little smile, like she had decided that Gem was good enough for an eventual friendship.

Gaia, where the hell was Chimera? She was going to start sounding suspiciously clingy real soon if Chimera didn’t show up within the next two minutes. Snow started bowing her head as a farewell gesture, so Gem hurriedly shoved her shoe back on and stood up.

‘So uh,’ she stammered. ‘Do you want my number? I can get you some pretty sweet deals on my brands. Or, you know, if you ever have jobs where you need a partner, I’m up for it. I don’t mean to be pushy, hah, I’m just – I’m always on the lookout for more Upworld jobs.’

Snow gave her a small smile. ‘I’m sure our paths will cross again,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I really need to go.’

She extended a hand. Gem took it, and they shook formally.

‘Lovely to meet you…?’

‘Hegemony.’

Snow nodded, and smiled with those perfectly outlined lips of hers.

‘Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

Gem opened her mouth. Closed it again. Then Snow turned away and started taking long strides towards the fire exit. Gem muttered a string of curses under her breath and hurried after her.

‘I just wanted to say, great work tonight,’ she called. ‘You made a very convincing Calamity.’

Snow glanced at her over her shoulder, one impeccably plucked eyebrow arched up.

Fuck. One of the first lessons Gem had learnt in this business was that you never try to play a player. She’d hardly even started talking that Snow had already understood exactly what she was trying to do.

‘Thank you,’ Snow said, her tone icy.

‘Listen, could you – could do you me a favour?’ Gem said. ‘I have a friend who’d absolutely love to meet you. It would hardly take five minutes, I promise.’

‘I really don’t have the time.’

They were at the fire exit. Gem’s hands lingered by her guns, her heart pounding painfully as the situation slipped further and further between her fingers.

Snow pulled at one of the doors. Gem leapt forwards, slammed it shut.

When Snow looked at her, clearly expecting an explanation, Gem sighed and hung her head.

‘I need you to stay inside the building,’ Gem said. ‘I’m really sorry. Just a little while longer.’

Snow narrowed those dark eyes at her, clearly more pissed off than afraid.

‘Please move,’ Snow said.

‘I really can’t,’ Gem told her, wondering if she could pick up on how sincerely sorry she was for ruining a perfectly good potential friendship. ‘My friend needs to see you before you leave.’

Snow glanced down at the hand that Gem had laid on one of her guns.

‘I promise you, I have nothing but the highest respect for you,’ Gem said. ‘It kills me to have to do this. But I just – I have a job to do.’

Snow sighed.

‘How do they say in the common tongue?’ she muttered. ‘Oh, yes. It seems you have drawn the short straw?’

Gem grinned. ‘You could put it like that. Honestly, I wasn’t lying when I said I’d love to work with you. It’s just – this situation is what it is, you know. ’

‘I have no doubt,’ Snow told her. ‘You seem like a very accomplished young woman. I’m equally sorry for us to be in this position. I always prefer to keep my relationships with fellow high-class escorts as friendly as possible.’

Gem nodded. ‘Hey, maybe after this is done we can grab a drink and I’ll introduce you to some of my Syren Latex connections.’

Snow smiled at her and bowed her head. ‘I would greatly appreciate that.’

Then before Gem could even blink, Snow grabbed Gem’s arm and twisted it up behind her back. Her face was pressed against the wall in the next second, her yelp of pain echoing in the corridor. She tried to twist away, pushing with all her strength. Snow resisted her – then let go entirely. Unbalanced, Gem staggered around again, only to find the fire exit door wide open.

Snow was gone.

Gritting her teeth, Gem grabbed one of her guns, cocked it, and ran out into the cold night air.

•

Genesis was smoking outside, pacing, keeping an eye on the curve in the road ahead where the van would be coming from.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that spell Aeris had used. The raw energy of it had felt the same as what he’d felt when stepping into her church. Concentrated sunlight, ancient elemental magic that hardly even have a name any more. Again he couldn’t shake the impression that there was something about her – something huge that he was missing. Maybe she was just a natural magic-wielder who’d managed to hone her skills to a respectably high level, but… no, there was more to it than that.

His phone was ringing. He checked the number quickly. Hegemony. Scowling, he rejected the call and shoved his phone in his pocket. His lips were still aching from the way Sephiroth had abused them, and he couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked, kneeling there in front of Aeris, almost worshipful as she laid her hands on his head and blessed him with her magic. Or broke him, rather.

The phone rang again, so Genesis took a drag of his cigarette to calm his growing irritation. Alright, so he'd been less than gallant towards his old domme. And she deserved an explanation. Yes. But after tonight. After he received confirmation that Sephiroth was awake enough for him to be able to whack him in the face for that mile-high kiss. 

The phone rang a third time. Genesis flicked his cigarette to the floor, crushing it angrily with one heel as he took his phone out. 

' _What?'_

'Are you too pissed to be useful to me?'

Genesis's eyebrows shot up. 'Excuse me?'

'I need your help. Sharp-ish. I'm in a really fucking stupid situation. Coming up on Republic Plaza.'

She sounded out of breath. Genesis looked across the road, realising where she meant. 'That's literally two minutes from where I am. What are you doing up here?'

'I was at the Intra Meum, you big genius,' Gem railed. 'Downstairs. You probably didn't see me. Can you come help?'

'I've - got my own situation over here.'

'For fuck's sake, Genesis, can't you just - oh  _shit_ _!_ ' There was a scuffling sound, then something that sounded like a chorus of wind chimes whooshing past the receiver. 'Look. If you don't come  _right now_  I'm going to be turned into a human-sized popsicle in the next five minutes. I'm serious. I don't have any protective materia on me.'

Genesis sighed. He looked at a little alleyway that led to the plaza in question. However irritating she was, he didn't like the idea of her being in danger. And she was a Hound. If she said things were bad, she definitely wasn't exaggerating.

He started across the road. Surely it was a problem he'd be able to fix before the van arrived.

'OK, stay on the phone, I'm coming.'

As he ran he was imagining a crowd of Upworld idiots surrounding his old domme, perhaps eager Second Class men who'd gotten too drunk to hold themselves back. He gritted his teeth, seeing himself wreaking havoc among a gaggle of entitled frothy-mouthed soldiers.

When he burst out into the plaza, he found Gem by the central fountain. It was completely frozen, plumes of water drawing high glittering arcs. Must've been one hell of a Blizzard spell. Gem was standing there in her stilettos, one hand holding her phone to her ear while the other pointed a gun ahead. He scanned the other side of the plaza for her target, and found only one woman in a big expensive-looking fur shrug. 

A small whiff of smoke curled out of Hegemony's gun barrel. 

'I don't want to hurt you!’ Gem called. ‘Just – please stop running!’

The rich woman lowered her chin, spreading her hands.

‘You’re not going to hurt me,’ she called back, her words bearing a heavy accent.

Genesis rushed up to his domme, making sure he avoided the glittery patches on the paving stones.

'One woman?' he hissed at her as he pocketed his phone. 'You called me out here to deal with  _one woman?'_

Gem kept her eye on her target, though her face pinched in annoyance.

'Look, you have no idea who she is,' she snapped. ‘Come on. Wall me up.’

Genesis felt for his Barrier materia, before remembering that he only wore his curative collection to civilian events.

'I'm afraid I don't have that on me,' he said.

Gem broke away from her target to look at him disbelievingly. 'Then what use are you, exactly?' she whisper-shrieked. 'I thought you always carried your essentials around with you!'

'Forgive me for not thinking that I'd need to Wall up at a  _cabaret_ ,' Genesis hissed back.

While they talked, the temperature seemed to drop to a wintry frost. There were crystals glittering over the plaza, tracing a path between the two women. It was a nascent Blizzard spell, he could recognize it, though it seemed far too powerful for a non-Soldier to be wielding it.

Genesis reached around Hegemony, grabbed her free gun. Aimed it.

'No - don't shoot her!'

Gem bumped into him just as he shot. Gunshots sparked around the rich woman’s feet. She started walking backwards, unfazed as the Blizzard spell grew in intensity all around them.

'The fuck did you do that for?' Genesis snapped as he tried to aim through the thickening haze of ice crystals.

‘I was serious when I said I don't want to hurt –  _aah –_ ’ Her words warped into a cry of pain as the ice gained on her. The metal of her gun turned a prickly white, and her hands were next – her skin turned progressively blue as the ice spread all the way down her arms. ‘Oh Goddess – it’s so _cold –_ ’ She struggled mindlessly to wrench her fingers away from her gun. Genesis took his eyes off the target so he could take Gem's hands in his and force out a Curaga.

His veins strained with magical abuse after all the spells he’d used on Sephiroth, but it was enough to rid her of the ice. She panted through the pain, clutching at him with her trembling, reddened hands. Genesis balled her up against his chest, putting his back to the woman so that the waves of ice broke over him. He growled as the cold burned his skin through the flimsy layer of his shirt.

When the blizzard died down, he uncurled from Hegemony with difficulty, the ice on his shirt breaking up into crackly layers and sprinkling the ground.

‘Thank you,’ Gem stammered. Then she looked up and cursed. Genesis followed her gaze, seeing that the woman had disappeared down one of the dark alleyways that opened on the other side of the plaza.  

‘We have to get her,’ Gem said as she stood up. 'But  _no shooting._ '

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Genesis snapped. ‘It's the only weapon we've got right now. Unless I catch her.’

Gem glared at him. ‘I told you. You don’t know what’s going on. She's too important to harm.’

‘Believe me, I would _love_ to know what the fuck is going on tonight,’ Genesis said with a bitter laugh.

‘Just – come on,’ Gem said, barrelling past him with one shoulder knocking his.

‘Hegemony!’ Genesis called after her. Then, as she was running across the plaza with her gun in hand, he cursed and started running after her.

• • •


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the next 100k words of material lined up, just needs to be trimmed a little more and edited so I can fit new scenes in there. So I think it's realistic to say that I should be able to make an end-of-October deadline. :D Thank you so much for reading! Those of you who leave massive reviews just give me life. I couldn't do this without you guys <3

• • •

They ran. Hegemony was as fast as a stray cat, bolting down the dingy alley where they’d last glimpsed a wisp of silver fur. Genesis followed easily enough, trying to ignore the familiar pain that speared through his body as he forced it into a sprint without any kind of warm-up.

He would whip his head left and right whenever they turned corners, keeping an eye out for Peacekeepers as they made their way through a network of labyrinthine alleyways. With the current climate of unrest that Avalanche was stirring, it wouldn’t do to be seen charging through the Sectors when ShinRa’s troops were keeping their eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. Their quarry led them around a sharp turn, and Genesis caught himself on row of dustbins as he followed her, making the ones on the end clatter noisily to the ground. Goddess, he was getting worse and worse. He gritted his teeth, checked around himself to see if they had drawn attention. Thankfully there were no Peacekeepers or blue suits to be seen – just stray dogs and the occasional blanketed lumps trying to sleep amidst the sweet-smelling steam from restaurant kitchens.

It was inevitable after a while, though. This was the Plate. You couldn’t lose yourself for long before coming across a main artery. They came to an archway that clearly led to a main road. Cars and shouted conversations could be heard ahead. Genesis caught Hegemony around the waist, forcing her to slow down and stop while their quarry walked fearlessly into the crowd. Bunches of people strode along the pavements ahead, most of them young and dressed up for the night, speaking in loud drunken tones. Genesis spied at least one Peacekeeper vehicle, stopped by the front of an all-night fast food restaurant. The men in uniform were crowding around a group of loud teenagers, one of which was sporting a black eye.

Their target blended into the nocturnal crowd as easily as anything, heading for the nearest zebra crossing.

‘What are we waiting for?’ Hegemony hissed in his ear.

‘Peacekeepers,’ Genesis muttered back. He grabbed her hand, laced his fingers through hers as he pulled her out onto the pavement. They walked with their backs to the little group of ShinRa enforcers. ‘Don’t draw attention to us.’

‘I’m not the one with the famous face,’ Gem railed him.

‘But you _are_ looking distinctly Downworlder enough to smash a couple of bus stop shelters.’

Gem pretended to be outraged. ‘You don’t have to be from the slums to be a twat. And I can’t believe you’d still use such a bourgeois term. _Downworlder._ ’

‘I was teasing you.’

Gem didn’t seem impressed. ‘Just call us what we are. Slummers. And we build more than we tear down, you know that. Being a slummer doesn’t mean I enjoy blowing shit up.’

‘Darling.’ He glanced at her.

‘For Gaia’s sake, it was just the one time,’ she muttered. ‘And it was justified. They were delivering expired medication, remember, after we went on strike for corrupt healthcare and – Crisis, I can’t tell you anything.’

He turned back to their quarry, wearing a wide smile.

The crossing was a few feet ahead, the pedestrian lights green. The rich woman pulled her fur shrug more snugly over her shoulders, throwing them a casual glance to make sure they were still following her. Then she stepped daintily across the hot tarmac, like she was just another upper-class lady making her way to her third glamorous party of the evening.

‘The fucking nerve,’ Genesis laughed. ‘Who did you say this woman was?’

 ‘Miss Snow,’ Hegemony told him. ‘The president’s escort.’

Genesis recalled the gossip he’d heard about that woman. How she had instigated foul play to ruin the careers of those who would go against Shinra’s puppet mayor. How she whispered words in the president’s ear, influencing the way the city was run. There were even rumours of assassinations among the dissenting members of the company, and how she might’ve had a hand in them, either as bait or as the one pulling the trigger.

‘Ah. Right. That one.’

They had almost gained on the crossing when the lights turned red. Snow glanced at them from the other side of the road, picking up the pace. They both reluctantly stopped alongside a couple of swaying drunkards with kebabs in their hands.

‘You can certainly pick them,’ he muttered to his partner in crime.

Hegemony shot him a glance. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t serious. I mean, you’re so _busy_ these days, and all.’

She was looking at him like she was holding back from spitting out what she was really thinking. Genesis sighed, eyes trained on Snow. She seemed to be heading for a little archway between two shops. They’d have to catch up fast.

‘Look. I understand if you’re pissed off. I didn’t exactly behave in the most respectful – ’

Gem snorted. ‘Save it.’ 

The red light was lasting far too long. Genesis could feel the pull of the hunt making his feet light, giving him the urge to burst into a sprint. Hegemony didn’t seem all that calm by his side, either.

‘What are we waiting for?’ she nagged him. ‘Shit, she’s going to be gone down that alley in about five seconds.’

‘I told you, don’t draw attention to us,’ Genesis hissed. ‘We can catch up – ’

‘She’s gone. Shit, shit, she’s gone – ’

‘I said _don’t – ’_

She broke into a run, cutting through the moving traffic.

He bit back the yelled command to stop as she weaved her way effortlessly through the cars, tapping against car bonnets and earning herself a chorus of honks and skidding tires. He tried to see a pathway for himself but could hardly discern the cars under all the trailing lights they left behind. Fuck. He was too drunk and hurting for this.

He glanced over at the Peacekeepers. Some of them were looking their way, but they were still preoccupied by their drunken derelicts. The pedestrian light turned green, so Genesis hunched his shoulders, turning his face away as he followed the crowd across the road.

He picked up the pace until he came up to the alleyway where both women had disappeared. The Peacekeepers didn’t seem to be making their way over, so he sank into the darkness, breaking into a jog. The alley was full of leaking pipes and gaping communal dustbins. He kept breaking into pockets of frosty air, surely magical residue from Snow’s spells, which made it easy to track them down.

He’d barely been running for thirty seconds before he caught up with Hegemony, who was pressing herself against the wall to avoid one of Snow’s spells. The crystalline mist was in the last stages of evaporation. They were getting close.  

Finally, they came to a rickety metal staircase that clung haphazardly to the back of a shop. An ice spell was steadily gaining the entire metal structure, turning it all into one big glittery death trap. They both skidded to a halt. Hegemony craned her neck, watching as Snow’s puffy figure climbed her way to the very top.  

Genesis took advantage of the pause to try and catch his breath. It was preposterous for a Soldier to be _panting_ after not even half an hour of exertion. He tried to breathe quietly so that Hegemony wouldn’t notice. She didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, anyway – she walked over to the staircase, tested the slippery white bannister. From the way her hand sprang away again, Genesis guessed it was probably very frozen.

He checked the bracers he was wearing under his shirt sleeves again. There was one small Bolt materia that hadn’t been trained up to any kind of efficiency – he’d probably shoved it in there to repair something and forgotten about it. The empty slots all around it seemed to mock him. One single Fire materia would’ve made this so much simpler.

He came up beside Hegemony. The apology he’d been trying to make still hung between them, dangling there unfinished.

 ‘Listen,’ Genesis started again. ‘I’m sorry. I truly am.’

She seemed impatient. ‘This isn’t exactly the right time, is it?’

‘I just wanted it to be said. My behaviour may have been a little cavalier, but that doesn’t mean I care so little that I’ll let you run to your death.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s exactly how you win a girl over,’ Gem seethed. ‘Tell her that you do care – perhaps not about her, but at least about your guilty conscience.’

‘You know I care about you,’ Genesis snapped at her. ‘Do you want me to get down on one knee right here and go through all the things you’ve made me feel? Do you want us to forgo the chase and just have it out with this pair of goddamn ancient revolvers of yours?’

‘Hey. They’re vintage,’ she protested. ‘And they’re perfectly functional.’

‘They’re useless around magic. You saw that.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s not like I can’t still shoot your knee caps out with them.’

Genesis arched an eyebrow. ‘So you don’t mind shooting me, but we absolutely _mustn’t_ puncture any saintly body part of Snow’s.’

She looked up at the building. ‘Look, let’s discuss who shoots who later. You know the Upperworld way better than I do. Do you know where we are? Where she might come out again?’

Genesis started forwards, pushing aside his annoyance to mentally map out what he knew of this sector. The main road curved around this little residential grid – this particular apartment building didn’t extend very far. They would have to break up and monitor each side of the building, keeping each other updated on their phones as they had no better equipment.

He informed her of the plan, gave her back the gun he’d kept. She nodded at him, her Mohawk glittering with the ice crystals that clung to it. He couldn’t help looking her up and down – he’d never seen her in any other capacity than her glamorous escort persona, but it almost suited her better to have holsters at her hips and a gun in each hand, her dark make-up smeared over her cheeks.

She caught him looking.

‘I’m going to have to start charging if you keep staring at me like that,’ she said. She didn’t sound entirely dissatisfied by the fact that he was ogling her. He grinned.

‘It would be my pleasure to pay,’ he told her. She turned away just in time for him to see her smile. ‘Keep your eyes open. If you see a Peacekeeper, for the love of Shiva, hide. I’ll be just around the corner.’

He skirted around the building whilst Hegemony prowled by the back exits. They could still hear the distant booming of music from the Intra Meum and the purr of cars travelling across Midgar’s elevated highways. Genesis watched for any sign of movement through the windows and across the street, staying tuned in to his Bolt materia in case she reappeared. His phone was pressed to his ear, listening to Gem’s soft breathing as she prowled along her side of the building.

After a moment of silence, she asked, ‘Can I ask you something?’

Genesis’s concentration broke. He pressed himself against a wall where Snow would have more difficulty seeing him, and kept his eyes fixed on the wintry immobility of the street ahead.

‘What is it?’

‘Did I… do anything wrong?’

The sincerity of the question caught Genesis off-guard. He felt a surge of compassion for how professional she sounded, how she was very evidently bottling up her emotions so as not to crush him with them.

When he didn’t answer, she added in a perfect salesman voice, ‘You know me, I’m all about customer satisfaction. I’m taking you through my cancellation survey.’

Genesis grinned. ‘No, Gem. You didn’t do anything wrong.’

There was another small silence. The far end of the apartment building had scaffolding clinging to the dark windows. As he came closer he realised it was clearly still in construction. Uninhabited. He caught movement behind one of the windows, kept an eye fixed on it.

‘I did though, didn’t I,’ Gem said. ‘I broke character with you. I was too pushy.’

‘That wasn’t a mistake. You pushed me in the right direction.’ Genesis breathed out slowly, trying to think past the pain in his side. ‘I’m not sure when it happened, but I think I just lost my appetite for characters and pretense.’

‘ _You?_ Genesis Rhapsodos, lost the appetite for theatrics?’

He smirked. ‘I didn’t say that. I guess I’m just… sick of the character I’ve been playing. Even with you. I feel like you never really saw who I was.’

‘Give me a break. I know who you are.’

‘Mm. Well.’

He was about to explain himself when a plastic sheet covering one of the gaping windows was pulled to the side. His breath hitched.

‘Movement towards the end of the building, entrance number 17, last storey,’ he muttered.

‘Can you see her?’

‘No. I’m gonna get closer.’

‘Should we go inside? Some of the windows don’t have any glass.’

‘We’ve got far more visibility like this.’

He crept closer, flattening himself against the front doors of number 17 so that Snow would lose sight of him from that window. Feeling for his Bolt materia, he listened intently for movement.

The temperate dropped. Genesis looked up.

The windows exploded outwards.

At the last moment he shoved his face into the crook of his arm, running away from the building – shards of glass and ice rained down around him, slicing his arms and his ice-burnt back. Hegemony yelled his name but he was too busy trying to evade the debris to reply. When he looked over his shoulder, he found Snow standing in the open doorway of number 17, hands out. Behind her a veritable storm of whirling snow was brewing inside the entrance, preparing to flood the street at her behest.

She stared him down with those heavily outlined eyes, as though she were profoundly unimpressed that they’d had to team up on her like this. She didn’t seem to give a single shit that she was up against a Soldier, nor that the lights were turning on in the flats around them, people shouting and rushing to their windows. She raised her arms, and unleashed the storm.

Roaring winds worthy of the Northern Crater swept across the tarmac, coating the streetlights in white ice and raking over parked cars. The metal hulks groaned as the winds pushed and pushed at them. As the whir of ice gained speed, several of them lifted up on two wheels and keeled over with low whines of metal and resounding crashes. Glass scattered across the floor among the ice crystals.

Genesis ran for cover.

‘Has she come out?’ Hegemony badgered him over the phone.

‘Get your arse over here.’ Genesis had rarely been up against an enemy that had absolutely no fear at the sight of a Soldier. His pulse was pounding just as hard as in any high-level VR mission. ‘She’s come out, yeah. She’s pulled all the ice out of Shiva’s arse and is merrily throwing it my way.’

‘I’m coming!’  
  
By the time the blizzard had finished ravaging the street and died down to a glittery fog, Snow had started running again. Genesis peered out from behind the upturned car he’d been hiding behind, finding Hegemony across the street brushing ice from her body. Wordlessly they met up, spared just enough time to check if they were both OK, and broke into a sprint.

Snow led them through the residential district and swerved into a small private parking lot. She was fast, but not fast enough for a First Class. Genesis threw a hand in the air, an aggressive Bolt spell bursting from his palm in a froth of static. Snow had apparently taken the time to shield herself as the tendrils of light glanced right off her, catching the cars around them and frying them before their alarms could even go off. He threw another as he ran, heedless of Gem’s yelled orders to stop – the third bolt cracked through the woman’s MBarrier in a brilliant arc, and she stumbled as the magic caught her. He leapt forwards and tackled her to the ground – but she eeled out of his grasp, her skin as slippery as ice.

‘Shoot her!’ he yelled at Gem as he pushed himself back to his feet.

‘I said _no_!’

‘Just – get her in the leg!’

‘Not gonna happen!’

Scowling, Genesis turned around and grabbed Hegemony around the waist as she caught up with him. The familiar curve of her body gave in to the pull of his arms and she all but fell against him. He wrestled a gun off of her, heedless of her demands to stop, and aimed ahead.

He didn’t have time to shoot. Pain ripped through Genesis’s shoulder and he cried out, grabbing the bloody tatters of his shirt. He looked around himself, hardly daring to believe the obvious conclusion.

Hegemony had her gun aimed straight at him.

 ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he shouted. ‘She’s getting away! Is that what you want?’

There was a split second of hesitation, and Hegemony swerved around, aiming at Snow as she climbed one of the fences that surrounded the car park. Gunshots cracked the air as Hegemony shot her way.

Snow flinched away from the sudden eruption of sparks all around her feet. The air was filled with the _zip_ of bullets flying past her, several of them ricocheting off the fence and trailing sparks. Genesis squinted, tried to sharpen his enhanced vision through the haze of ice and alcohol – two bullets caught Snow in the thigh and hip, and she crumpled to the ground.

Hegemony turned back to him, panting with fear and exertion.

‘Give the gun back,’ she growled.

He couldn’t help laughing. ‘You actually shot me!’

‘I didn’t trust you not to kill her!’ Hegemony shouted back. ‘Give it, I said.’

‘Goddess, I can’t believe you.’ He looked down at his shoulder, prodding at the wound. The bullet was still in there, snugly lodged in his flesh. ‘When have I ever given you reason not to trust me?’ he asked her, holding out the gun.

‘Oh, I can think of a couple of times,’ she railed as she took the gun from him. He thought back on their relationship for a minute.

‘Ah, yes. Touché. But I promise you, I wasn’t going to kill her. I don’t even know what she’s done.’

‘You seemed pretty enthusiastic with those Bolt spells.’

‘I’m drunk and in pain,’ he grunted. ‘And swords are much more my specialty than long-range.’

‘Which is why I’ll shoot you again if you try to take my guns.’

Genesis smirked. ‘You really know how to treat your allies. Count me impressed.’

She gave him one last glare, and headed for their huddled, trembling target. Genesis cast a Cure on himself irritably, wincing as his shoulder muscles knitted themselves back together, slowly pushing out the bullet.

When he got to them Hegemony was kneeling at Snow’s side, wrapping a strip of her own dress around the woman’s bloody thigh. The knobbly cement must’ve been cutting into her bare legs, but she didn’t seem to care. If he’d known she was capable of chasing one of Midgar’s most notorious assassins through a whole Sector of the Upperworld in the middle of winter, and holding her ground against a Soldier, all the while wearing naught but sequins and a gun belt – he would have probably thought a little harder about ending their contract.

‘So when are you enrolling in Soldier?’ Genesis asked her. ‘With that ruthlessness of yours, I can see it happening.’

Gem scowled up at him.

‘No one would ever catch me working for a mega-corporation,’ she said. ‘You know me. I’m an anarchist.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘Disappointed?’

Genesis smirked. ‘Envious, actually.’

Hegemony tied the knot in the bandage she was making. Snow twitched as it dug into her flesh.

‘Better?’ Hegemony asked her.

‘Thank you,’ Snow said thinly. Then she glared up at Genesis. ‘What’s a Soldier doing, meddling with the affairs of slumfolk?’

‘I was just asking myself that, actually,’ the Commander quipped.

‘He’s here as my enforcer,’ Gem improvised. ‘I wanted us to be able to talk without anyone getting shot, but clearly that was impossible. I’m sorry.’

‘You do realise that she tried to kill you about three times,’ Genesis deadpanned.

‘Circumstantial hazard,’ Hegemony said, with an elegance that made Genesis smile.

‘Speaking of which. I’m guessing just about everyone in that block are calling for Peacekeepers, seeing as you wrecked their front gardens and smashed their family vehicles,’ he said to Snow. ‘Let’s get you somewhere a little less conspicuous.’

He stepped closer. Snow was clearly trying to contain her pained writhing to a minimum as she dragged herself away from him. Blood was beginning to soak through the sheer white crystals of her dress at the hip area, gaining over her belly. When he put his arms around her shoulders to help her sit up, she hissed through clenched teeth.

Genesis felt a pull of magic as the woman tried to Cure herself. Hegemony lifted her head, clearly feeling the shift in the air, too.

 ‘Find her materia,’ Genesis ordered.

Hegemony straddled Snow’s legs and proceeded to search. She ripped the bracelets off her arms, checked around the ankles, pressed her hands around the bra area. Her movements were precise, knowing, like she was checking the spots she used herself. Then she tore Snow’s dress up to the hip and found a leather garter hugging her thigh, covered in glowing crystals.

‘Always the spot with you girls,’ Genesis quipped. Gem rolled her eyes at him as she unbuckled the garter. She chucked it at him, so he grabbed it and wound it around his wrist.

Hegemony told their charge patiently, ‘I’d prefer that we keep it civil, but if you don’t cooperate, then we’ll have no choice but to use force. I’ve seen interrogations with repeated cycles of Cure and punishment, over and over, and I really don’t want us to go there. But we will if we have to.’ 

Genesis stared at her, impressed. The Hound in her was really shining through tonight.

‘And I thought your friend was the ruthless one,’ Snow sneered.

‘You’re lucky that we’re doing things her way,’ Genesis informed her coldly. ‘You know who I am, don’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Snow said. ‘You wear your identity about as subtly as Ifrit wears his horns, Commander.’

Genesis looked more smug than offended. ‘Then you are aware that obtaining answers in a timely fashion is my specialty.’

‘Fuck you.’

It didn’t quite sit right in Snow’s posh mouth, like she didn’t say the word often enough to pronounce it properly. Genesis felt almost honoured that she’d gone beyond her linguistic comfort zone just to insult him.

Insolently, he kept eye contact as he buckled up Snow’s garter belt around his wrist. As the metal slots conducted the magic through to his skin, he felt like his guts were being pulled up a notch. This was some serious high level stuff.

Hegemony stood guard, guns in hand as Genesis picked their quarry up and held her against him. She moaned softly through the pain as he carried her out of the parking and back into the residential quarter. There was a small corner shop ahead, completely dark. After sending small zaps to incapacitate any environing cameras he could find, Genesis led the way to the corner store.

‘You can pick locks, right?’ he asked Hegemony.

‘Tch. You and your assumptions about slumfolk.’

Genesis glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow arched in silent judgment.

‘Alright, alright,’ she admitted.

They came to the back entrance. Hegemony knelt in front of the door, slid a couple of pins from her hair and got to work. It took longer than Genesis had anticipated, especially as he was used to kicking and entering. Stealth was something the Turks were good at, not Soldiers. He kept an eye out, hearing the distant wail of Peacekeeper vehicles coming their way.

‘How long does this usually take?’ he asked impatiently.

‘About as long as you do when you’re fresh from a mission,’ Hegemony snapped back.

‘Clever. Very clever.’

There was a click, and the door inched open. She grinned up at him. ‘Two or three minutes? I’m in the ballpark, aren’t I?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

They marched in, shutting and locking the door behind them. Genesis deposited the woman in the middle of the tea and coffee aisle. Hegemony knelt by her whilst Genesis got out his phone to contact his usual driver. He tapped a quick text message to give his driver their location. Hegemony knelt by Snow’s side and wrenched the woman’s fur shrug off her shoulders without further ado.

Something rolled across Snow’s cleavage, like a tiny golden bullet. Genesis’s eyes widened. It was Aeris’s necklace, the one she’d worn tonight. Hegemony grabbed it and tugged. The chain popped at the back of Snow’s neck.

‘Thanks for wearing it here,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t have wanted to insult you by doing a full body search.’

Snow glanced up at the slum girl irritably. ‘You would’ve been an improvement over the last person.’

Gem threw the necklace at Genesis. He caught it easily, brought it up to his eye. It didn’t look like much. Just a little slip of gold, with some engravings on it.

‘Chimera told me that she needed that,’ Hegemony said. ‘And that Snow should _not_ get her hands on it.’

‘What is it?’ Genesis asked. He remembered seeing Aeris rub it against Sephiroth’s… nether regions. Perhaps some kind of vial containing aphrodisiac? Or lube? He tried to pull it, twist it. Then he found the correct way to turn it, and uncovered a little strip of glass showing the interior.

There was some kind of black liquid in there. He tilted it up into the dim street light that poured in through the windows

‘There’s something in here,’ Genesis muttered.

‘What is it?’ Hegemony asked their victim.

‘If you don’t Cure me, I’m not going to be alive much longer to tell you,’ Snow rasped.

The blood was gaining rapidly over the crystals of her dress. Already it pooled over her entire belly and trickled along the dirty white tiles of the shop floor. Hegemony and Genesis glanced at each other. She looked like she wanted to talk to him about how to proceed – but that would only waste time. Especially as the white coats were probably strapping Sephiroth in as they spoke. He wanted to be at his friend’s bedside rather than out here chasing mysteries, but at the same time… he was beginning to piece together a theory as to why Sephiroth had completely broken character and pounced on Aeris and himself, like a dying man grasping for one last night of bliss. Perhaps there were potions that could incur that sort of behaviour. Or poisons.

He nodded at Hegemony. She pulled Snow up against her chest so that she was almost speaking against Snow’s ear:

‘Tell us and we’ll Cure you.’

‘Cure me first.’

They went back and forth in this fashion for a moment. Genesis sensed that Hegemony was trying to stall as much as she could before she applied the consequences she’d promised. Perhaps Snow believed she was only bluffing.

He knelt beside them and pressed a palm into Snow’s injured hip. She sucked in air. Oh, he had no qualms about hurting a woman who had conspired against his friend and perhaps even Aeris, too. However much he had wanted to step away from the man he had been during the war, he found himself slipping right back into that role, reaching for his old tools quite naturally. It was deceptively easy. He looked up at his partner in crime.

‘Seems like we’re not being persuasive enough, my darling,’ he told her. ‘Shall we graduate to more direct methods?’

Hegemony stared at him. He could tell that she was scared under the fearless character she was putting on. But she swallowed her fear, throwing herself into her role as she always did.

‘Start small,’ she said.

Genesis grabbed Snow’s wrists, keeping a hold of them easily when she tried to wrench them away.

‘Fingers, or wrists?’ he asked Hegemony. ‘Which do I break first?’

Snow was panting, looking steadily at her fingers as though she were somehow trying to keep them attached to her knuckles.

‘Fingers,’ Hegemony said.

The resounding _crack_ of bone was almost as loud as a gunshot. Snow bit back her scream, her head digging into Hegemony’s shoulder. Genesis held the broken thumb at its awkward angle, looming over her, eyes casting a dim Mako glow over her tear-lined face.

‘It’s poison, isn’t it? What you have in that vial? You were trying to poison Sephiroth?’

‘Settler _drullukanta,_ ’ she gasped.

Hegemony glanced up at him. ‘What the fuck is that?’

‘I believe she just called me a ‘settler piece of shit’ in Nordic,’ Genesis told her. ‘She’s using some kind of dialect, though. Different pronunciation than usual. Which is interesting. But evidently not the right answer.’

The second finger snapped. Hegemony held Snow tight around the shoulders as she writhed. Her face was going white as she looked at the fingers sticking out at unnatural angles, though she seemed determined enough to let it happen. After the third one snapped, Snow cried out and bucked her bullet-ridden hips – which must’ve added considerably to her pain.  

‘What could you possibly gain from poisoning Sephiroth?’ Genesis asked. It made sense now, why Aeris had tried to Cure him with whatever spell she’d used. Perhaps Snow had told her to use the vial without mentioning that its effects were deadly. Perhaps stealing it back and making a run for it was a way of covering her tracks.

‘It is not poison!’ she gasped. He studied her face, trying to gauge her expression. There was nothing there but pain and quiet fury in the lines of her brow, the set of her jaw. He let go of her bent fingers as her mouth wobbled around words. ‘I would never say a thing. Normally. I would never. But… this. This is personal. And my employer doesn’t deserve… my pain. He is filth. What he deserves is to be hung.’

Hegemony and Genesis exchanged a gleeful glance. The Commander looked back down at their victim, waiting for her to elaborate.

‘You work for ShinRa,’ she said to him.

‘At the moment, yes.’

‘Do you share their values? Do you wish to protect them?’

‘What is it to you?’

‘I saw you. You are the one who did not accept… to show… your face.  At the vi… victory ceremony. Are you not?’

‘That was me, yes.’

‘Are you interested in knowing… what ShinRa does to its Soldiers?’

He frowned, letting the plot to poison ShinRa’s prized General collapse under this new lead. His own chronic pain was lingering in his shoulder and flank, eating up a part of his concentration as always. He could feel it even more keenly now that those words had been uttered – words reminiscent of what every Avalanche poster screamed at the crowds. _Soldiers are mutilated, cursed beings…_

‘This is Avalanche business, isn’t it?’ he muttered. ‘You’re working for Avalanche?’

‘Cure her thigh,’ Hegemony told him. ‘Puddle of blood’s looking a bit large.’

He hitched the long glittering panel of Snow’s dress away from her thighs, looking for the bandage Hegemony had made. There was so much blood, her legs were slick and blackened by it. He laid a hand on the sodden fabric of the bandage, focalized his Cure onto the wound so that it wouldn’t heal anything else. Once it was done, he undid the knot, loosened the fabric. The bullet rolled across her thigh and clinked onto the tarmac.

‘There is a physician in Wutai,’ Snow breathed. ‘He works for ShinRa. He is one of the select few physicians who has permission to treat Sephiroth. He is now also an Avalanche collaborator. Seeing as he has access… to legitimate equipment and labs, he will be able to see what is in his blood. What ShinRa wants to hide from you.’ She closed her eyes, managing to regulate her breathing a little better.

Genesis had gone very still.

‘It’s blood,’ he muttered. ‘Sephiroth’s… you took his blood.’ But that meant that Aeris… Aeris had been the one to take it. And Snow had stolen it.

‘That was Avalanche’s plan, yes,’ Snow said. ‘And I am supposed to be working for Avalanche now, too. Though I have never cared for two-pence people’s movements that go nowhere. I’ve seen them rise and fall one after the other. What I care about is freeing myself from the middle man who signed me up to Avalanche’s cause.’

She stopped there, like a storyteller enjoying the cliffhanger she’d made.

‘The middle man?’ Genesis prompted.

She opened her eyes, fixed them on him. She was making a clear request that Hegemony guessed just as well as he did.

‘I think she’s earned the hip, too.’

Genesis obliged. Snow went rigid against Hegemony as the complicated tangle of nerves that connected spine and hip knitted back together. Then the hipbone itself must’ve begun fusing because she gave a strangled groan, burying her face in Gem’s neck.

When the bullet clinked to the ground, she was panting again in earnest.

‘Give us a name,’ Genesis asked.

‘I will tell you what you need to know,’ she muttered. ‘But not here. Somewhere we know no one will be listening.’

Genesis and Hegemony exchanged a glance again. This time, words would be necessary. He ran his hand along the materia orbs that clung to his wrist, feeling what kind of magic each one contained – and came across a Seal. In a wave of the hand, Snow grew limp against Hegemony, eyes drifting shut, a sigh ghosting out of her mouth as she succumbed to the Sleep spell. He cured her fingers next, holding each one in the appropriate position.

‘Is there anywhere up here that’s safe?’ Hegemony asked. ‘I know places below the plate, but there are always eyes and ears around the train stations.’

‘There’s my flat, otherwise,’ Genesis offered. ‘I can’t think of any safer place. Especially if she’s about to make the offer she seems to be working towards.’

Hegemony tucked Snow up against her while he talked, one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders. With a groan of effort she heaved Snow up into her arms, holding her bridal-style and leaning back so that Snow’s head could rest snugly against her neck.

‘What offer?’ she wheezed.

Genesis ran his hand along the knobbly crystals around his wrist, staring at their multicoloured glow.

‘That I join Avalanche’s cause,’ he muttered.

 

• • •

 

There was no one in the dressing rooms.

Aeris’s hands were trembling as she searched her handbag for her phone. She sat down, staring blankly at the screen of the cheap flip-phone as she relived the last few moments of the evening. Part of her was still sitting beside Sephiroth on that couch upstairs, hoping that he’d wake up and fearing what the consequences would be for her if he did.

There had been a strange sort of… void, after the voices had gone. After the Planet had fallen quiet. It had been as though whatever had been speaking through him had been slain by her spell. Silenced. And in its place there was nothing, perhaps just the glimmer of a young burgeoning soul who had never been given the room to grow. She had looked at him, imagined who he might’ve been if he had never grown into the world’s most feared soldier. For a few seconds he had seemed so peaceful.

Then they had come. The white coats. She’d recognized one of them as they ushered her out, treating her like just another hostess in her luxuriant get-up, all except for one – a woman she remembered from a time where she’d had no hope, no future, nothing. She was older now, obviously, it had been more than a decade but the wrinkles on her face still looked like some kind of VR glitch to Aeris. Her hair was still short, though it was grey rather than black. And her eyes were a clear blue, just as kind as Aeris remembered. All of what Aeris had built around herself over the years had crumbled when their eyes locked and she became that ten-year-old girl again, clutching the armrests of her medical bed as the woman threaded needles into her veins. The woman had stared at her for a long moment. Then she disappeared behind the curtains along with her colleagues.  

Aeris had gripped a nearby chair and prayed so hard to be back home that it was a wonder the four walls of her bedroom hadn’t snap up around her. Apparently Angeal and Zack had left as soon as the show was over – there was almost nobody left up here, except those in curtained-off niches who were getting their own private dances. Aeris dropped out of time, staring fixedly at an unfinished glass of liquor on the oily table in front of her until the curtains were thrown aside and the white coats reappeared. They had a stretcher between them, the body so thoroughly strapped in that it was almost impossible to see who it was. The woman had given her one last lingering glance, as though she’d been about to stop and say something to her. Then she had turned back to the stretcher, and Aeris could only watch them go down, powerless as always.

It was over. Snow had the blood. And Hegemony… Gaia, how could Aeris have set her on that woman? How could she have been so stupid? Of course Gem would chase after her if she ran. Of course she would accept to put herself into danger. Aeris only hoped that they might’ve come to some kind of agreement. That Snow might’ve let Gem off somehow, because of how long they’d both been in the industry. That mutual respect between older working women might be Gem’s saving grace.

Aeris looked up at the dusty jacket that Gem had hung up beside her own coat. She bit her lip, running her fingertips over the smooth, worn leather. For a moment she didn’t give a Chocobo’s roasted wing if Snow went ahead with her little plan. As long as Gem would come back safe.

She called her friend, hoping that she wouldn’t be interrupting some kind of chase. She closed her eyes, listening to it ringing, imagining the worst.

Someone finally picked up.

‘How is he?’ said a deep, masculine voice. ‘Are you still with him?’

 Aeris frowned at the familiar tone. ‘Genesis?’ she guessed. ‘Where are you? Are you with Gem?’

‘Yes, we’re traveling right now,’ he said. ‘We’ve got the situation under control. And you and I need to talk, urgently, but first of all – is he alright, did he wake up?’

‘He’s – I don’t know,’ Aeris sighed. ‘A bunch of medics came up and took him away. He didn’t seem any different.’

There was a silence. Aeris couldn’t even begin to calculate how much Genesis potentially knew by now, if he’d helped to catch Snow.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked. ‘Is Gem OK? What – ’

‘Is this why you did it?’ Genesis cut her off abruptly. ‘You started seeing him again because – what, you wanted to groom him for this? Get him to trust you so that you could strike back at him?’

Aeris leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes so that the room might stop spinning.

‘Genesis, I – ’

‘All this time I thought you were working through it together, I thought you were doing it because you were actually giving him the benefit of the doubt,’ he went on. ‘I have to say I was surprised that you’d be magnanimous enough to continue seeing him – it was bizarre at first that you weren’t even expressing any anger about the whole deal. But you were bottling it up, weren’t you? You were just biding your time until the right moment came to stab him in the back.’

There was a scuffle, the sound of a woman’s voice saying _he had it coming, Genesis_ and a hiss to be quiet.

The sound of Gem’s voice was enough to ground Aeris again.

‘He hurt me,’ Aeris said. ‘He hurt me much more than I hurt him. This is nothing compared to what he did to me.’

‘You don’t understand how personal this is,’ Genesis insisted. ‘You took something from him – something that _defines_ who he is. You lured him into a trap and you stole it.’

‘And how is that different to what he did to me?’

A pause.

‘Is this how you want to play it, then? You want to make the same mistakes as him, just for the sake of getting even? You want to sink just as low as he did?’

‘That’s a bit rich, coming from you,’ Aeris snapped back. Guilt pressed down onto her chest like an anchor as soon as the words were out. She quickly added, ‘I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t – ’

‘No, you’re right,’ he said. ‘I know what that man is capable of making us feel. I _know_ how easy it is to stoop much lower than your own personal standards because of him. Part of me is actually impressed that you managed something like this – but I know just how far outside of your own nature you allowed yourself to go for it. And you need to come back. You’re better than this.’

His voice was tinged with sadness. Aeris let out a shaky exhale, rubbing a hand against her forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just – ’ It was getting harder and harder to speak around the lump in her throat. ‘I just want this night to be over. I want everyone to be OK.’

There was a pause as he mulled over his words.

‘I want that, too,’ he said. ‘Get yourself back down to the slums safely. I’ll call you as soon as I have any news.’

Aeris nodded, gripping her phone hard. ‘OK.’

‘Stay safe.’

• • •

 

Hojo was waiting at the doors of the main ShinRa lab, hands behind his back. He was not anxious. This would blow over, like every other time Sephiroth had been brought back from Wutai as a child and then as a teenager, his body torn every which way only to miraculously heal itself like no other human body could. It would be fine. But as soon as the double doors banged open, he couldn’t help jumping into action and striding over to the stretcher, slotting himself in between his assistants to take in their reports. He looked down at his son, absurdly relieved to see him breathing.

A headache pounded at Sephiroth’s skull as he blinked his way back to consciousness. His body was lurching as he was pulled left and right. It took him a few seconds to realise they were wheeling him through the corridors. The good doctor was saying something but Sephiroth couldn’t hear him, couldn’t focus. The lights were too bright. He felt like the hot glass of the light bulbs was being pressed against his eyes. He squinted, faintly recognizing the usual route through the labs to their private examination room.

He knew this place like the back of his hand, knew the white tiles and the beeping machinery about as intimately as any normal kid might know their neighbours or their parents’ friends. There were voices echoing, doubling in his mind as he tried to listen. In a lurching movement he was shifted from the stretcher to the usual examination table. He had enough presence of mind to look around himself, seeing his reflection in the glass wall that cut the room in two. An exclusive group of Science Department heads had kept up with Hojo’s research all throughout the General’s childhood behind that wall. They were there now, ogling anxiously from behind the glass as his guardian strapped him in.

Hojo’s hands were trembling as he took another blood sample from his son and handed it to an assistant for testing. They’d seen in the van that the abundance of Jenova cells had startlingly receded to the lowest percentage that they had ever seen. Even as a fetus, Sephiroth’s body had proven to be the perfect host for Jenova’s parasitic presence. They lived in perfect harmony, their balance remaining unaltered by Cure or Esuna spells. In his entire career as guardian of Sephiroth’s genetic capital, Hojo had catalogued only one potential threat to the delicate balance. But the chances that Sephiroth would come into proximity of that threat were minimal. Tseng would’ve said something if the two specimens had come into contact, surely.

They had to act fast. Their patient was in a dire state of anemia as a result of the eradicated cells. As Hojo had only ever tested the threat on external samples of Jenova cells, he had no idea how Sephiroth would react to such a radical physical change. When they tested the new blood sample, there was another shock to be had.

The Jenova cells were multiplying at a frenetic rate now, renewing and bolstering their ranks to compensate for the sudden shortage. Hojo halted the assistants that came rushing into the room with more packets of blood.

‘There’ll be no need for that,’ the professor told them. Perhaps if he helped his son’s body regain its usual balance, the growth rate would slow down. ‘Get me packs of raw J01. _Now_.’ He turned back to his patient and watched with wide, excited eyes how the process was affecting him.

The headache had enveloped his entire body, stretching out through his limbs. Sephiroth could only contemplate his consciousness slipping from him as his thoughts became hazier and hazier. Blood seemed to flake across his veins, dry and jagged so that every heartbeat seemed to heave and expel dead leaves throughout his body. He couldn’t hear the doctors’ voices, could only buck his wrists against his restraints and grit his teeth. And after a while the stars behind his eyelids grew crimson tendrils, melted together to form a bloody nebula, and he fancied he was standing on the edge of some organic formation with a barely construed shape – no he _was_ the formation, and he felt limitless, he felt… _it’s all in your head,_ came a distant voice, perhaps his thoughts, perhaps his conscience, but he was too far from reality – he had before him an echoing plain of space and he felt like all he need do was spread his wings and fly across the void. And he would rule the darkness, he would reign supreme…

Sharp pain skittered along his cheekbone as someone slapped him. Reality sucked him back by the feet, a bog dragging him down into the muck of physical sensation. He could see Hojo’s face floating above his. Fear gripped his chest as he realized that he couldn’t consciously keep a hold on reality, that his mind was slipping away from him. He tried to move his hands to grab the only real thing that he could see but the leather restraints held him back again.

‘Sephiroth,’ came Hojo’s habitual drawl. ‘You need to calm down.’

‘I am calm.’ It came in jolts and gasps, defeating the meaning of the words.

‘You are in a state of severe anemia and disorientation,’ the good doctor said. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yes.’ Then; ‘What’s happening to me?’

‘It’s alright. You’re going to be alright, no need to panic,’ Hojo said. Sephiroth vaguely registered the squeak of small wheels approaching, and the tall thin silhouette of an IV stand behind Hojo. The bags were full of blue-black goo. ‘What you’re feeling is normal in your current state. Your body is trying to fix itself too quickly.’ Hojo took the prepared materials from his assistants as he spoke, ripping open a pouch with a fresh needle in it. ‘I am going to help it slow down.’

Sephiroth kept his eyes trained on the needle as it approached the crook of his elbow, his nerves like a trembling canopy under his skin.

‘Just focus on breathing. This will all be over soon.’

The needle plunged into the vein, clean as a swimmer in a still lake. Sephiroth tried to focus on the familiar sight of Hojo twisting IV tubing onto the needle and fixing it onto Sephiroth’s arm with large sticky pads. For the first few seconds, there was white silence, pervaded by the regular beeping of the machines that surrounded them. Then, surely as the substance was sucked deeper into Sephiroth’s body – the pressure became far worse. A steadily growing burn thudded across the walls of his veins as they drank in the black liquid. With each beat of his heart it was like a hellish carrousel whirring around his venous system, around the circle of his ribcage, faster, faster – it was like it would never stop growing, never stop spinning and there was blood in his mouth as he clamped down on the delicate mucous of his cheeks.  

Hojo held him down as best he could as Sephiroth’s wrists turned and bucked against the leather restraints.

‘What is this?’ Sephiroth demanded. ‘Is it normal – for it to _hurt – ’_

‘The pain should subside shortly,’ Hojo told him. ‘Do you remember any substances that were given to you tonight? Any unusual spells that might’ve been done to you?’

There was one thing. He couldn’t shake the impression that Chimera had… done something somehow. He could find no other explanation for how wantonly he’d behaved. Not to mention, he couldn’t even remember half of it. She had a peculiar affinity for materia, so maybe her magical ability allowed her to use spells of her own. But he’d be damned before he told Hojo that there existed a person of interest out there, another to add to his collection, so he gritted his teeth and tried to endure it. It’d be over soon – _soon –_

Then as he closed his eyes and willed himself to stay calm, he felt a sickening sort of blossoming in his chest. Something was coating his bones in acid and he bared his teeth, letting out a deep groan of pain. His spine was arched up at maximum flexion capacity and he hadn’t even realize it – Hojo started to clamp the IV tube up and rip off the sticky pads, ordering his patient to stay still, but Sephiroth could no longer control his body.

He wrenched away from the doctor, snapping the leather restraints. The movement dislodged the needle so that black blood streamed down his forearm. He hardly even felt it, he was hardly conscious of anything else than the urgency of evading the pain. Hojo retreated behind the glass. Sephiroth blindly followed him, head down, fingers spread like claws, breathing in ragged gasps.

 ‘ _Turn on the ether! Turn it on full throttle! NOW!_ ’

The General stumbled against the glass just as Hojo slammed the door shut. He could see only red, only black and red and those stars behind his eyelids as every single muscle in his body tensed. The sensation was so generalized that he didn’t realize what was sprouting from his back, growing out of the bone and blood of his shoulder blade in sick spurts. Veins crept up like crimson ivy growing on fast-forward.  And under the eyes of the fascinated scientists, he succumbed to the ether-provoked slumber, sweaty hands squeaking down the glass as he fell, a monstrous limb covered in black feathers and bloody sinew cushioning his fall.  
  


• • •

 

Once they exited the chauffeured car, Genesis followed Hegemony up to his flat with Snow in his arms. He dumped her onto his couch whilst Hegemony closed the door after them, the autolock mechanism giving that familiar reassuring _click._ His shoulder still ached around the phantom presence of Gem’s bullet. Massaging the healed wound, Genesis went straight for his alcohol cabinet. His collection of vintage brandy was waiting for him in its knobbly bottles. Crystal rubbed and sang as he took out three glasses from the cabinet, set them on the counter and poured himself a medicinal dose. Well, slightly more than medicinal. He chucked it back, then poured another. For good measure.

Once he had imbibed enough liquid courage to turn around again, he found Gem sitting on the armrest of the sofa, one knee up against her chest as she inspected her foot. Her nylons were badly ripped all around her feet, ladders climbing up her legs. She tugged at something, hissing as she eased it out of the sole of her foot.

‘Here,’ Genesis said as he went over to her with brandy in hand. ‘You’re probably going to need this.’

She took the glass, downed it. ‘I can’t believe I managed to run around with _this_ stuck in my feet,’ she groaned as she wiped brandy shine from her mouth.

‘What is it? Is there glass?’

‘You could probably glue together a modern art sculpture with all the shit I’ve got in there.’

Genesis snorted at that. Hegemony looked up at the sound, smoky eyes catching his. Barring Snow, it was the first time they’d been alone together since that fateful night where she’d lost his favour. And yet after the evening they had just spent, it felt like no time had passed at all. She was still just as charmingly irritable as before, and a master in the art of pretending she was only slightly affected by events that would’ve reduced anyone else to a bumbling panic.

He put his glass down on the coffee table and began unwinding the garter from around his wrist. Hegemony watched him as he slid it off and handed it to her. She just stared at it without taking it, multicoloured lights dancing in her eyes as she marveled at all that materia.

‘This should be your loot for the night,’ he said. ‘You’re the one who stopped her.’

He knew there was far more to make up for than simply what had transpired tonight. But she took it anyway, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smile. He lingered next to her as she buckled the garter around her own thigh, feeling oddly peaceful at the sight of her wielding leather and buckles.

‘Can you cast the Cure?’ she said quietly. ‘This doesn’t have any bypass tech on it.’

‘Oh, of course.’ He placed a hand over the Cure materia on the side of her garter, allowed the magic to flow through Hegemony’s body. She tensed as the debris was pushed out of her skin, clinking onto the hardwood floor.

‘You were very impressive tonight,’ Genesis told her. Then he couldn’t help teasing; ‘One would think that it comes with the territory of being a domme, but still, that mustn’t have been easy to stomach.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Hegemony said with a small grin. ‘Most dommes I know are absolute sweethearts who couldn’t hurt a fly outside of a session. I just… grew up in that kind of environment, so. Interrogation techniques stopped being shocking a while ago.’

Genesis studied her features. From the moment he’d first undressed her and traced the burnt skin of her Hound mark, he’d had an inkling that her early years mustn’t have been particularly easy. It was one of the reasons why he respected her as much as he did. She was far below him in terms of social status, and yet his own traumas probably paled in comparison to what she must’ve been through. As dysfunctional as his family life had been, he had still been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, whilst she had suffered the branding iron.

‘It wasn’t your first ride then?’ he asked gently.

‘It was the first time I had a hand in directing it,’ she replied.

‘In that case, you did very well.’

She smirked. ‘Would’ve done better if you hadn’t made me shoot the one woman I’ve always looked up to.’

Genesis glanced over at Snow’s curled up figure on the other end of the couch. ‘I should’ve known that your role models would be a little on the extreme side.’

‘You’re one to talk,’ she said. ‘What was that about Sephiroth, anyway? He was – unconscious or something?’

‘Mm. Chimera did something to him that not even Curaga could fix.’

‘Good. He got his comeuppance, then.’

Genesis’s eyes glazed over as he stared at Snow. ‘Honestly, I doubt Chimera will have found any kind of catharsis tonight. Hardly anyone has ever brought Sephiroth down to such a weak state, but she didn’t seem triumphant at all. She was just as scared as I was when he wouldn’t wake up.’  

Hegemony leaned over the table to pour more brandy for them. ‘You had Bolt on you, didn’t you? Couldn’t you have just kick-started him back to life?’

Genesis smirked. ‘Bolt is far too strong for that. I wouldn’t want to risk shriveling what little heart he has.’

She turned back to him with their refilled glasses. They clinked, Genesis noticing how her blood-spattered hands were still trembling.

 ‘So what are you going to do if Snow makes the offer?’ Gem asked him.

Avalanche. Sephiroth’s blood. _His_ blood. The only thing that interested him in a potential deal with Avalanche was that his questions might finally be answered, seeing as Hollander had always painstakingly avoided the truth. But Genesis’s mind was still reeling, still interrupted by the taste and texture of Sephiroth’s lips against his own to do any proper thinking. He was worried about him, he was angry at him, he didn’t know whether he wanted to kneel at his feet or stab him in the back just as Aeris had done. It seemed making a choice between Avalanche and ShinRa boiled down to choosing between the same old loyalties he’d always struggled with.

He saw Sephiroth, twisting under him, chest heaving in the red lights. The face of a prince, all hooded eyes and high cheekbones. How his tongue had felt, silky and hot and almost deceptively soft. The way Genesis had felt claimed by him, owned by him – and Goddess, the joy of it.

Then he saw Sephiroth in his scarlet military uniform, medals scattered across his chest like stardust. The smile that had felt like knives in Genesis’s heart.

It had always been so temporary. The happiness. The bursts of bliss in his chest whenever he basked in the glow of Sephiroth’s approval. He knew better than to keep repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results.

Hegemony placed a hand on his forearm. The redhead looked down at her, strands of hair falling over his face and fencing in the will-o-wisp blue.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Ever since the march, I...’

She looked concerned. ‘I thought Soldier was your entire life.’

‘It was.’

‘ _Was?’_

Genesis nodded over at Snow. ‘Let’s wake her up and see what she has to say about it.’

‘Genesis,’ Hegemony insisted. He looked down at the sharp lines of her face, the smudged kohl around her eyes. She looked at him like she was the devotee, this time around. ‘I know ShinRa’s not exactly a paragon of ethical behaviour. But Avalanche have blood on their hands, too. If you’re really considering this – I hope you at least realise what kind of an organisation they are.’

‘We all have blood on our hands,’ Genesis said. ‘And mine are far bloodier than theirs. I know that for a fact.’

 

 

Snow took a moment to look at her surroundings once she woke up. Genesis explained to her where she was, why he had taken her there, why he had cast sleep on her. Hegemony offered her brandy, and she gratefully took a glass.

‘So first things first, before we get all warm and fuzzy,’ Genesis said as he sat down opposite her. ‘If I may have the audacity of judging you by your unofficial track record – you aren’t the type to rat out your employers. So I assume you’re expecting us to help you if you help us?’

Snow observed him coolly. ‘If you are open to such a thing, I am, yes,’ she said.

‘Right. So. Your employer.’

‘My employer,’ Snow drawled, her tone dripping with hatred, ‘is the gentleman known as Marcus Delaine.’

‘I know him,’ Hegemony said with a glance at Genesis. ‘Isn’t he one of President Shinra’s pals?’

‘He’s certainly one of the President’s biggest sponsors,’ Genesis said. ‘His bags are full of money stolen from Midgar’s underbelly, but everybody turns a blind eye as long as the world keeps turning.’

Snow watched them, her eyes lighting up with some kind of fire as they spat all over the man she supposedly hated. When her turn came to speak again, she told them the whole story. That Delaine was a turncoat who was now sponsoring Avalanche for his own gain. That he was a two-faced, power-hungry degenerate who saw people as opportunities for profit and nothing more. That he had forced her and Chimera into a contract where they would extract Sephiroth’s blood in order to blow the secret of Soldier’s success wide open, making it public knowledge in order to undermine Shinra’s credibility for the coming elections in April. That she had stolen the blood to try and buy herself and her closest colleagues freedom from him.

As Genesis listened, his shoulder was beginning to throb more and more. He kept rubbing it absently through the bloody fabric of his shirt.

‘What I’ve always wondered is where they got that idea from?’ he asked to Snow. ‘Why do they seem so hell bent on running after some genetic deus ex machina to justify the might of Soldier?’

‘They have insider information,’ Snow said. ‘They know where to look for breaches in ShinRa’s conduct. From what I heard, the physician I told you about has already handled the sensitive materials in question. He essentially needs admissible physical proof before he can help Avalanche to make any legal claims.’

Genesis held his cold brandy glass against his shoulder, frowning down at the coffee table. He could see Hollander’s apologetic face, the way his forehead would crinkle up, his mouth stretching into a wobbly line. _I’m sorry. I can’t tell you why you’re hurting. We’ll figure it out together, I promise – in the meantime, it would be in your best interests if you kept it to yourself._

He was beginning to see how such a theory might sound coherent. First Class Soldiers weren’t allowed to be seen by anyone else than the two head physicians of the Science Department – and failing them, special dispensation had to be given to handpicked professionals chosen by Hojo or Hollander. Their tissue samples and bodily fluids were not legally allowed to be tested elsewhere than certain specific labs over the globe, by certain specific people. Seeing the company’s paranoia, their extracted genetic materials were probably more heavily guarded than ShinRa’s goddamned money vaults.

‘Why Sephiroth’s blood? And not mine or Angeal’s?’ Genesis asked.

Snow held up a hand. ‘My knowledge on the matter does not extend that far. You would have to ask the physician himself.’

‘I’m surprised Avalanche accepted a sponsor like him,’ Hegemony piped up. ‘They’re supposed to be all about ethics and ecology and equal rights. Wouldn’t it tarnish their reputation if people knew where their money was coming from?’

‘You’re right to raise the question,’ Snow told her as she sipped her brandy. ‘Since Delaine informed me of this project, I have kept steady contact with Avalanche members that I know and trust. And like you said. Most of Avalanche is unhappy with the idea of riding on stolen money and a network built on all kinds of illegal traffic. But as they are still growing, they have no other choice but to deal with the devil.’

Genesis tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘How would you like us to help you?’

Snow didn’t look like the kind of woman who ever begged or belittled herself. She looked straight into Genesis’s eyes, unflinching. ‘I would like to go ahead with my initial plan. To obtain freedom from Delaine. You may choose to do as you like with Sephiroth’s blood – I don’t care. All I wish is for is my freedom back.’

Genesis stood there, brandy in hand, staring hard at the coffee table. Hegemony went on sipping at her brandy, letting a thoughtful silence settle.

‘Couldn’t be as simple as giving Delaine a good coating of ice?’ Hegemony offered.

‘Trust me, I have thought about it. But it wouldn’t make the information he has about us go away,’ Snow said. ‘I didn’t come down from my homeland with all my dreams of living in the world’s largest city, to end up shackled to some depraved megalomaniac and completely powerless to do anything about it.’

Genesis glanced over at her with a grim smile. ‘I know the feeling.’

Both women looked up at him. He had the necklace in one hand, rolling the pendant between two fingers while the golden chain pooled in his palm.

‘So what do you think?’ Hegemony prompted him.

‘If we’re going to do this at all, we’re not giving them Sephiroth’s blood,’ he said quietly.

‘You what?’

‘Sephiroth’s my friend. He didn’t consent to any of this. I won’t tolerate any part of him being used and displayed to the public.’ He pocketed the necklace. ‘So we’re going to give them my blood instead.’

The slum girl stared at him.

‘I’m First Class, just like he is,’ Genesis explained. ‘We receive the same treatment. If there’s anything to be discovered in our blood, then mine will be just as tainted as his.’

‘Genesis,’ Hegemony said slowly while Snow looked at him with a satisfied tilt of the chin. ‘Are you saying you’re willing to actually desert ShinRa for this?’

Genesis looked at her fondly. ‘It has been a long time coming.’

 ‘But if you do this, you’ll be explicitly betraying them. At least if we use Sephiroth’s, they would blame Avalanche as a whole. If you desert _and_ give them a big fuck you like this– ’

 ‘I’m not afraid of them,’ he told her. ‘I’m the worst they can do, remember? They literally don’t have the means to take one of their own First Class down.’

_Except if they turn Sephiroth against me._

He poured himself some brandy.

‘Tell Delaine you weaved an alliance with me,’ he said to Snow. ‘Tell him that my condition is that he gives up the dirt he has on you, Chimera and anyone you request. And that we deal with Avalanche directly. That way, we can request an audience with the leaders of Avalanche and see what happens from there.’

Hegemony stood up, wandered over to the war flags that surrounded the doors to the bedroom. Her arms were crossed, her face set. Clearly she was still pissed off at the idea of him risking his reputation and merrily setting his whole career on fire. Snow, on the other hand, drank his words and nodded once he had finished speaking.

‘I will leave you my details, so we can be in touch.’

 

 

Once Snow had left, Hegemony sat on the back of the couch and wedged her feet into her shoes, staying stonily silent. She seemed ready to just march out of there without another word. There was so much that he had to apologise for to her, he didn’t even know where to start. Aeris’s voice was in his ear again, insisting on the fact that the best apology of all would be to buy her, but it was probably _very_ far from the right time to bring up that offer. He watched her for a moment. Technically he really should see where she stood, perhaps at least mention it so that he’d know whether she even wanted to be bought in the first place.

‘Since you’re here, there was something I wanted to talk about with you,’ he offered tentatively.

‘Yeah,’ she said, heels clopping on the floor as she stood up. ‘Me too.’

‘Oh?’

She glared at him. ‘Why are you protecting him?’

He had nothing to say to that. He thought for a few seconds. ‘I’m not _protecting_ him, I just don’t want him to be a part of something he didn’t consent – ’

‘Bullshit,’ Hegemony snapped. ‘That’s all bullshit. You always bend over backwards for that man. If you want to keep doing that – pretending that he’s worthy of anyone’s love or devotion – then go ahead. But don’t expect me to be supportive while you _ruin_ yourself for him. He doesn’t deserve it.’

‘Hegemony,’ he rumbled.

‘I know, I know,’ she said. ‘I have no idea who you actually are. That’s what you said, isn’t it? I can’t possibly know what I’m talking about.’ She straightened, bristling at him. ‘Thank you for your help tonight. I’m going to see myself out. Goodnight.’

She started towards the front door, so Genesis threw out an arm and caught her.

‘For Gaia’s sake, Hegemony. _Stop._ ’

Their eyes met. She waited for him to speak, her lips pressed together in a firm line.

 ‘I’ve known him since we were teenagers,’ Genesis told her, his voice unsteady. ‘He’s like a brother to me. So yes. Some part of me will always be on his side.’

‘You said it wasn’t my business,’ she said. ‘Your relationship with Sephiroth. But I noticed the pattern, you know. Whenever you would book me after some campaign, some long mission where you would be under his heel – you would always go beyond your own limits with me, hurt yourself beyond what our contract allows. What kind of a friend pushes you to those extremes?’

Genesis let her go and slowly turned towards the couch. It would be all too easy to give her one of his smug platitudes to try and move himself further outside of her sphere of understanding as always. _You’ve never really known me. I never showed you who I really was._ But she didn’t deserve that. Not after tonight.

‘I know you’re not interested in continuing to see me,’ she went on. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about you. Of course I don’t want you to just throw away everything that used to count for you, just to cover his arse.’

‘Hegemony,’ Genesis warned. He looked up at her, his expression raw.

‘No, listen,’ she insisted. ‘You think far too little of yourself. You – _squash_ yourself into the mud for him, you base all of your self-worth on his opinion of you. But what the fuck is his opinion worth? _Nothing_. You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to take the bullet for him.’

‘Are you finished?’

Hegemony’s cheeks were a little red from how passionate she’d allowed herself to get. She brushed a stray strand of hair back against her Mohawk, trying to regain her composure. ‘Yeah. I’m finished.’

They stood there for a moment, the sudden silence far too loud.

‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about?’ she asked, none too gently.

‘Now isn’t the right time,’ he told her in clipped tones.

‘Well it’s half out the bag already, isn’t it.’

‘I said leave it.’

‘Come on, don’t be a twat. What was it?’

Genesis glared at her. ‘I wanted to discuss buying you,’ he said. ‘But since you’re intent on being angry at me then I suppose it’ll have to wait.’

Hegemony stared at him. Her eyes went uncharacteristically round. He watched as she felt for the corner of the wall behind her, leaning there like she’d fall over otherwise. He shouldn’t have felt amused after everything they’d been through tonight – but the sight of her completely losing her countenance was oddly sweet. His chest felt heavy as she tried and failed to find a response to his offer.

‘Don’t play with me,’ she managed.

‘I’m not playing.’

‘But – I thought we were done?’

‘Well, it would be utterly ignoble for me to leave without saying a proper goodbye, wouldn’t it?’

A slow smile crept over her lips. Then she put a hand over her mouth as she stared up at him disbelievingly.

‘Shit,’ she blurted.

He could only laugh. He wouldn’t have expected any other reaction from her.

‘You could’ve at least have chosen a better fucking moment, Gen,’ she added.

‘I didn’t know when I’d next be seeing you,’ he explained. ‘Seeing as you seemed far too angry with me to even stay for five minutes.’

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. He winced when she pitched her weight against his wound.

‘Mind my shoulder,’ he wheezed as he held her. ‘You know. Where you _shot_ me.’

‘Idiot,’ came her muffled voice against his collar.

 • • •

 

Hojo couldn’t count any other moment in his life where he’d been more relieved than when the wing had receded back into his son’s shoulder blade. It would’ve been the end of the man’s public life, and perhaps of his sanity, if he had woken and the wing had still been there.

Even hours afterwards, Hojo’s mind was still filled with images of Sephiroth boasting that monstrous fifth limb, splayed out on the floor after begging for freedom like any other of his caged specimens, banging open palms against the glass. The sight of the one-winged horror that his son had become was burned into the doctor’s retinas. As he paced among his aids he was reliving it over and over again in his head. The improbable growth, evolution on fast-forward, feathers coming from Planet knows which forgotten, inactive gene. The bloody muscle had apparently had no time to form even a superfluous layer of skin for protection as it made crimson trails across the floor, writhing and twitching uncontrollably. Perhaps if Sephiroth hadn’t fallen unconscious, the wing might’ve formed itself properly. But as the General was on his back, the wing had _receded_ , cells folding into one another as it gradually collapsed into the General’s shoulder blade. The only evidence against it being a collective hallucination was the scattered black feathers that surrounded Sephiroth’s inert body.

They had tested the feathers, found them to be a derivative of the Jenova DNA, a hidden potential. And now the tantalizing question had arisen about just _how much_ potential the DNA retained. What other transformations awaited Sephiroth, if he were subjected to the same treatment as tonight?

One of Hojo’s assistants returned with the hard copies of files that had long since been deleted from all electronic hard drives for secrecy’s sake. Hojo started pawing through the sheets. There were piles of data from the seven years during which Ifalna had been under Hojo’s care. He found the yellowed stack of pages that detailed the tests he’d submitted the younger Cetra to. Little Aeris had been diplomatically persuaded into using her abilities (promises of treats, just like any dog – children made such easy specimens to handle), on animals that had been injected with Jenova cells. It had been to test Gast’s theories about Jenova’s origins – that she was alien, and that the Cetra’s abilities were fatal to her. It had been the turning point in Hojo’s own beliefs about Jenova’s origins. When the girl’s ability had eradicated the Jenova cells either partially or entirely, he had realised that Gast had been right all along. That they had been marrying human beings to something that was completely unknown to them. But by then it had been far too late to turn back. And if anything, he was only more fascinated by the outcome.

He took a recent photo that had been slotted into the files by one of the Turks, and headed for the recovery rooms.

 

Sephiroth was awake in one of the beds, sitting up and poring over a book that had been left there. Hojo strode over to him, clipboard in hand.

‘I’m glad to see you’re up,’ he said loudly when Sephiroth, as always, refused to acknowledge his presence. ‘I almost thought you were beginning to grow soft.’   

‘Apparently I overcame the problem,’ Sephiroth said curtly. ‘Whatever the problem was.’

Hojo pursed his lips as Sephiroth confirmed one of his theories. ‘You don’t remember?’

Sephiroth slid one finger down the central crease of his book. ‘I remember bits and pieces. Nothing that makes sense.’

Hojo grasped his clipboard in both hands and proceeded to reel off the lies that he’d prepared. That Sephiroth had been grievously injured, and that his state of disorientation had resulted in perceptual hallucinations. He watched a little anxiously as Sephiroth reached back to scratch the shoulder blade where that monstrous wing had sprouted. There was nothing there now but a small mass of warped flesh, like a protruding scar.

‘There are several things you need to avoid, if you don’t want a repeat episode of tonight,’ Hojo concluded. ‘First of all, you _must_ stop spending so much of your free time with Genesis Rhapsodos.’

Sephiroth finally met his gaze.

‘You have made that request before,’ he said icily. ‘I don’t care about your warnings. You do not have clearance to restrict my choices for social accompaniment. Not any more.’

‘His mind has no value,’ Hojo insisted. ‘The blood coursing through his veins has no value. And it is only a matter of time before I can convince the board that his entire person is of no value whatsoever. He only endangers you and all of Soldier with his recklessness. You would do well not to get attached. I have told you this time and time again. He doesn’t bring you anything remotely constructive – ’

 ‘What you don’t seem to understand,’ Sephiroth said, enunciating his words with grating condescension, ‘is that most of the ShinRa heads actually consider him to be an actual human being. So you can throw as many tantrums as you like. You’ll never be able to have any authority over him or Angeal.’

‘Perhaps not now,’ Hojo agreed with a strained smile. ‘There’s one more thing.’

Here, he turned his clipboard around for Sephiroth to see. There was a photo there. Hojo studied Sephiroth’s expression closely as his eyes roamed over the girl’s face. Years of emotional repression meant that Sephiroth was very good at concealing what he was feeling, so it took a trained eye to pick up on any outward sign. And Hojo definitely picked up the way Sephiroth blinked one too many times, the way that small muscle in his jaw clenched. He recognized her. He… felt something for her.

‘You were in contact with this girl tonight,’ Hojo drawled. ‘No need to lie to me. My assistant saw her at the cabaret and reported back to me. You are not to see her again. You are never to engage with her. Is that clear?’

Sephiroth’s feline eyes slithered back up to his, giving him a little jolt of fear. Twenty-seven years later and he still found it in him to be afraid of his son.

‘Why?’ he demanded.

‘Because she is dangerous to you. And you have nothing positive to gain from her company.’

‘Dangerous?’ Sephiroth echoed. His gaze had turned intense. ‘Who is she?’

‘You needn’t concern yourself with that.’

‘How can you expect me to obey when you only give me a fraction of the information?’ Sephiroth thundered.

‘Sephiroth.’

It was just one word – just a few meagre syllables scattering from the good doctor’s mouth, and yet with naught but a name and a firm tone, he managed to assert his authority, a gangly scientist claiming domination over the most powerful soldier in existence. Sephiroth lifted his chin a little, as if to try and remain dignified as he accepted to drop the subject.

‘You will rest here until the morning,’ Hojo concluded. ‘We will conduct more tests in the early hours, to determine whether your condition has stabilized enough for you to leave.’

He turned the photo of the Cetra girl away again. Sephiroth said nothing, only stared straight ahead of himself, jaw still clenched as he waited for Hojo to leave. Feeling his only son’s hatred radiating off him as always, Hojo exited the room, clipboard held tightly to his chest.

• • •


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. I have no idea if the pacing works in this one. If any section seems too long to you, give me a shout. <3 As always, I love you guys so much for bearing with me through this fic. Hope you enjoy!

• • •

It had been a long time since Hegemony had slept in Genesis’s flat. After the chase and the insane night they’d had, it would have been a betrayal of his gentlemanly values to let her take the night train back down. He insisted that she make herself at home, gave her a set of his own silk pyjamas and all the gear she needed for a shower.

Hegemony mutely appreciated how neither of them felt the need to formally draw boundaries. The situation was clear enough. They both understood that him inviting her to spend the night was a friendly gesture, and that until money had exchanged hands, there would be no sexual advances made. Genesis had always been the model client in that way. He’d always known exactly how to behave within a paid relationship. But it was also extremely frustrating when Hegemony would’ve _wanted_ there to be a tentative, unpaid evolution of their arrangement.

She hardly slept. At first it was because Genesis’s bed gave her far too vivid reminders of what they’d had. His musky scent was everywhere. And he always looked so irresistibly vulnerable when he slept. She spent most of the night in the living room with the lights off, smoking by the open window. There were still New Year’s fireworks going off far into the morning, sending glitter into the night sky.  She couldn’t stop thinking about Snow, and the way Genesis had pulled back her fingers one by one. Snow and the brave face she’d made when she’d accepted her predicament. Gem wouldn’t have expected anything less from a woman with her reputation, but it was still something to see it up close. She wondered where Snow had retreated to, what kind of place a woman like that might own, and then she was off fantasizing about Upperworld houses and flats that she could live in once Genesis bought her. She could _live_ up here. Gaia _,_ it still didn’t feel real.

Genesis got up around noontime. He emerged from his room with his phone in hand, smiling as he informed Hegemony that Sephiroth was alright, he was back at his flat, it was all fine and he wasn’t dead. Hegemony faked enthusiasm, to which Genesis just laughed, clearly too relieved to find offense in her reaction. Putting Sephiroth behind them, they spoke at length over the brunch she’d prepared about what the buying process would entail. Hair still mussed up at the back, Genesis blearily spread jam over his toast as he went through all the paperwork that Hegemony would need to be able to live and work up here. He gave her one of the many fancy notebooks that lay around his flat so that she could jot it all down. First, she had to file a request for legal transfer from the lower district to the Upperworld. This was already a long and costly process – she would need to give references to persuade them that she wasn’t a homicidal maniac, and go to interviews where she’d lay out her professional goals. There were even vaccinations and a medical check-up to book. He gave her ballpark figures to jot down next to each document they’d have to use bribes for. She’d need to request an ID card with fiscal documents she didn’t have. Then take care of social security and health insurance, forge records about her revenue so that she could apply for benefits… the list went on and on.

‘The amount I’ll give you should cover all the expenses,’ he said. ‘We’re working with a rough estimation, but if anyone gives you any trouble, my name should unlock doors for you.’

‘Goddess,’ Hegemony sighed as she sat back in her chair. She held a mug of coffee against her chest as she flipped through the pages of her new notebook. ‘Actually I think I might stay down there, where you don’t need to lug around a _wheelbarrow_ of proof that you deserve a roof over your head.’

Genesis smiled at her through his mouthful of toast. ‘The paperwork you need up here always sounds daunting, I know. But I have the perfect incentive for you,’ he said. ‘A Second Class friend of mine is selling his flat over in Sector three. Great place, six rooms total, lots of windows. About… eighty square metres, I think. I can get you a good price for it.’

A dazed smile pulled at Gem’s lips as she imagined it. ‘What the hell would I even do with so much space?’

Genesis shrugged. ‘Whatever you like. One room for sleeping, one room as an office, one for ropes and rubber…’

They glanced at each other, Hegemony completely unable to stop smiling. ‘I’ll have to check the ceilings when I visit it,’ she said. Her chest was bursting with excitement at the thought that she could visit places up here in view of buying them instead of just fantasizing.

Genesis licked jam off of his fingers whilst she imagined striding through a sunlit living room full of her own choice of furniture.

‘Hegemony,’ he began, his tone serious again.

‘Yeah?’

‘If you don’t mind me asking… are you sure that your Guard will be OK with this?’

It was a thought she had been avoiding since last night. She sighed, leg bouncing nervously as she put down her coffee mug.

‘If I come up to him with your check in hand and ask him permission, there’s a chance that he’ll just take the money for himself,’ she said. ‘There’s a pretty big chance, actually. I think the best option is to just go ahead with it and then break the news to him once it’s done and spent and he can’t do anything about it.’

Genesis looked just as fascinated as last night, when he’d finally seen her for the slum rat that she was. It wasn’t a condescending look, rather a sort of enthusiasm at gaining access to her private self.

‘Are you going to break away from them?’ he asked. ‘Once you’re settled up above, I mean.’

Hegemony sighed. ‘The Hounds are my family,’ she said. ‘You can’t just break away from family.’

‘Yes, you can,’ Genesis insisted. ‘If they’re not good to you, you can do what you want.’

Hegemony wondered what had happened in his own personal life for him to be so vehement about the subject. She picked up her mug, sipped some coffee.

‘I wasn’t raised that way,’ she said softly. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll handle the Hound side of things myself. Not one single Gil of your cash will be going to them, I promise.’

Genesis nodded, looking uncertain. Then he pushed himself up, squeezing Gem’s shoulder tenderly before heading back to his room.

‘Let me find my wallet.’

• • •

 

 ‘And you didn’t think to notify me, before you let my only surviving Cetra work as a _prostitute?_ ’

Hojo’s voice was thin with rage as he stood across the desk from the stoic Turk leader. Tseng merely stared up at his guest whilst Hojo’s face turned an angry shade of red.

‘This information is almost a year old,’ Tseng said calmly. ‘If you were so concerned about Aeris’ living standards, you would’ve inquired about her well-being before now. However, nothing in our contract stipulates that we have any say in her professional choices, so long as she remains within the confines of Midgar and does not attempt to harm herself.’

‘Are you even listening to yourself, man?’ Hojo spat. ‘Doesn’t it count as a form of self-harm to play the whore?’

‘It’s a profession,’ Tseng said slowly, ‘not a form of self-harm.’

‘It’s a _profession_ that is a danger to her physical and mental well-being. What if she becomes contaminated? What if she contracts something that damages her ability to procreate? What will you say to me then?’

Tseng faintly twitched an eyebrow.

‘All President Shinra cares about is keeping her in the city until he has enough funds to renew his interest,’ the Turk said. ‘Until then, we observe, we protect, and we do not intervene.’

‘I will see Shinra about this,’ Hojo raged on. ‘I’m sorry – I _cannot_ believe that he’d risk letting such a precious asset spiral into decadence for the sake of free will!’

‘For the sake of her fundamental rights as a citizen of Midgar? Is that what you mean?’

‘Free will shouldn’t be given to those who don’t know how to take care of themselves,’ the good doctor spat. ‘If she doesn’t stop this behaviour – I want her back here. I want her back in a controlled environment.’

‘Sir, we both know that the decision is ultimately the President’s,’ Tseng replied. ‘He’s aware of her current situation, and to be perfectly frank with you, I have already expressed my concern about her choices multiple times. But he doesn’t believe in half measures. According to him, either we bring her in directly, or we leave her alone. So unless we craft some bogus legal reason to haul her in, we can’t touch her until the Promised Land project goes ahead.’

‘Oh, for the love of the Planet!’ Hojo cried. ‘There are other reasons why her grace period should come to an end. She is – she has abilities that can seriously harm Sephiroth. I would never have imagined that the two of them might interact in their adult life, but they clearly have, and we need to find a way to prevent it from happening again. Genetically, they are poison to one another. If you can’t obtain any control over her so-called profession – then you can at least ensure that they never meet again.’

Hojo rifled through the report that was on the desk between them, pointing a finger at the dates. ‘You’ve said here that they have had… fourteen bookings together. Fourteen occasions for disaster!’

Tseng lifted his chin a little. He would not allow himself to sink beneath his usual standard of professionalism, even as he inwardly jubilated at the idea of separating Aeris from her regular client.

‘I only accept commissions from the President, regarding Aeris Gainsborough,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to obtain the President’s approval before I can have any clearance to modify her freedoms.’

Hojo looked at him behind the scratched lenses of his glasses. Tseng gathered the papers, ordering them back into the file instead of acknowledging that disgustingly knowing look.

 It wasn’t jealousy. It was in her best interests.

‘Thank you, Tseng.’ Hojo’s tone had sweetened to a high, satisfied pitch. ‘I will take this to the President as soon as I am able.’

 

• • •

 

Aeris had woken early in the afternoon, emerging grey-faced from her pillows. The first thing she checked was her phone – there was the much-anticipated message from Genesis, informing her that everyone was alive and well. Including Sephiroth. She could’ve cried from relief. Her sleep-deprived mind concluded that it was all going to be fine, surely. Downstairs, a gorgeous breakfast table awaited her – scones, hot chocolate with marshmallows, jam and butter and expensive chocolate spread. She’d sat down, given Elmyra a big kiss before tucking in. _Happy new year, Aeris,_ Elmyra told her. Aeris had managed to push out all memories of Sephiroth, blackouts, orgasms and ancient languages, and replied in kind. _Happy new year, mum_.

She detailed the cabaret show as much as she could to Elmyra, describing the choreography and making bits up from what she’d read on the program. Elmyra listened, nodding, eyes crinkling at the corners whenever she smiled over her mug of chocolate. They spent the afternoon gardening and lazing around together, talking about new year’s resolutions and what they hoped they would accomplish. Aeris had missed feeling so normal. She threw herself into the pretense of happy families, ignoring the sensation that she was turning her back on a gaping void of consequences.

When the time came to go to work, she packed her things, kissed Elmyra on her way out. Elmyra would always hold her hand a little longer these days, insist that she stay safe and call if anything happened. Aeris wondered what kind of image Elmyra had of the Bee. What she imagined when Aeris left home. Aeris didn’t have the heart to tell her anything that might justify her worries yet. Everything was still so fresh that she was allowing herself a glimmer of optimism, that maybe her actions had gone unnoticed. That maybe she could just put this behind her while Snow battled it out with Delaine, and get on with her life.

When she came to the Bee, the reality of what she was – of what she had _done_ – all of it became horribly immediate. It was as though she’d reverted back to adulthood after a morning spent in her old kiddie shoes. She froze, unable to even step through the entrance. The bouncers teased her about the holidays being over, which was just about the only thing that made her move. In a succession of automatisms, she walked through the bar, smiled at the girls and went to the office to check in.

More than ever, the sensation that there was no way out took over every movement she did, like she was wading through a swamp. The hairs on her forearms stood on end, shivers coursing through her body as she only just managed to keep her panic at bay. What else could she do than simply resume work? Where could she go? If the Turks had caught wind of her role in last night’s events, it was over for her, whether she went to work or tried to hide at home.

She lay a hand on the office door and a strange sound jarred her out of her thoughts. It sounded suspiciously like… a baby crying. She frowned. That was unusual. A lot of the girls were mothers, but they mostly managed to keep their children away from the workplace – mostly because the kids were old enough to take care of themselves, anyway. And a brothel was no place for a kid. They all knew that.

She opened the door on a particularly unique scene. There was one of her colleagues, Summer, standing there with one arm gesticulating and the other holding a baby against her chest. Boss was by his desk looking livid. His mustache twitched angrily as he tried to keep his voice down.

‘This is exactly why I can’t keep her here,’ Boss was saying. ‘What do you think it’ll do to my business if men come in here and have to listen to _that_?’

The baby went on wailing as though to illustrate Boss’s point.

‘It’ll shrivel their cocks up faster than you can say ‘nappy’!’ Boss cried.

‘I don’t have anywhere else to put her, I’m sorry,’ Summer said. She had a soft high-pitched voice that never rose to confrontational levels. ‘My boyfriend got arrested over that dumb New Year’s celebration at the dojo and I just – nobody I know is free to take her. She’ll be fine, she’s usually such an angel, I promise.’

‘I said _no_!’ Boss hissed.

‘Just let me do one booking,’ Summer insisted. ‘I just need one booking, I promise, just a couple of hours and I’ll be out of your hair.’

Aeris stepped forward as they went on arguing. The baby’s wide, reddened eyes were fixed on her as she came in. She gave it a tentative smile. She wasn’t exactly good around infants, much less newborn babies like this one, but something about the way it stared at her with those big watery black eyes drew her in.

She gave it a Cetran term of endearment. The sensorial equivalent of _darling._ Images of soothing darkness, the comfort of a full stomach, the steady drone of rainfall. Ifalna used to send those types of feelings to her even when they were kept separated from one another in the labs – images of snowfall in quiet pine forests, crackling hearths and her own motherly scent that Aeris was used to. Sensations of comfort were different for everyone, so Aeris would personalize the endearment according to how well she knew the person. And she imagined that the most comfort a baby could have would be the lack of stimuli. Nightfall. Silence.

The baby gurgled a little, and then fell quiet. It might’ve been a coincidence, but Aeris had always liked the theory that infants were more receptive to the old tongue than adults. As always when speaking in her native tongue, she felt relaxed, content. This was the kind of break she needed. When Summer turned to look at her, she held out her arms.

 ‘I can keep her for a bit if you want,’ she said.

‘You have a booking at midnight,’ Boss warned her.

‘That’s ages away,’ Aeris told him as Summer gratefully gave her the baby. Aeris cradled its head as she let the baby’s weight settle against her chest. ‘I can keep her in my room – ’

‘Absolutely not,’ Boss said. ‘I won’t say it again, girls – it should be obvious. _No babies in this brothel._ ’

Aeris glanced at her colleague as she bounced the baby gently. ‘How about I walk her around Wall Market and stop by the big bar? It’s never too busy at this hour.’

‘That’d be perfect, she loves the Market. I just need an hour,’ Summer said in a rushed breath, handing Aeris her big bulging tote bag full of what Aeris supposed were baby things. ‘Thank you so much.’

 

He watched, a solitary figure in the dark, as she came back out of the Honey Bee doors. He had a passing thought for how many men would book her tonight, how many would see those plains of white skin that she kept carefully hidden in daylight.

She was smiling to herself, her braid messy and curling around her shoulders as she held what looked like a bundled-up coat against her chest. It was getting colder – there would be snow soon, though not down here. The solitary Turk remained in the shadows as he followed her, nonchalantly keeping his hands in his pockets. His eyes followed the rhythmic sway of her legs under her ankle-length skirt, how her thighs pressed against the fabric only to vanish again in the ample folds.

Such a waste. He was always telling himself that; such a godamn waste.

When he reached her it would be the first time he spoke to her in months. He was expecting a little surprise, though definitely not any type of welcome. _Oh, Tseng! It’s been a while._ Only in his dreams was it ever appropriate for him to greet her in the way he would want to, and for her to reply in the same pleasant fashion.

His hands were sweating. He didn’t have good news. Then again, he never did.

He buried them deeper in his pockets.

She heard the quiet step of his lacquered heels as he detached himself from the shadows, walking behind her like any pedestrian. It had always amazed him how she could single him out, his pace, his stride, from the rest of the slummers that walked these dirt paths. It was oddly flattering to him. She knew him just as well as he knew her – each of them had an instinctual understanding of how the other moved, stalked, engaged. However many regulars she had, none of them could possibly know her body as intimately as he did, without ever having to touch it.

She stopped in the middle of the noisy bustle of Wall Market, her slight figure caressed by yellow and pink neon lights and thick restaurant smoke. Their eyes met, and he gave her a small smile, inviting her to walk alongside him.

‘Tseng,’ she said, her voice carefully level. He shouldn’t appreciate it so much, hearing his name in that shapely mouth. He fell into step beside her, a shadow in polished leather shoes. 

‘You don’t seem surprised to see me,’ he told her.

‘Well, you’re always there aren’t you?’

She waited for him to speak instead of leading the conversation, as always. He scanned her face out of the corner of his eye as they walked. Her smile had vanished, and she had bags under her eyes, though her brisk pace cancelled out any notion of tiredness. She was painfully alert, bristling with defensiveness, clearly protecting some kind of secret. Looking a little harder at what she was carrying, he realised that there was something in that coat – something round and hairy sticking out of a gap in the fabric.

It was a head. She was holding a baby.

Ice ran down his spine. He reminded himself that she had never been pregnant, that unless it was some kind of miracle then it couldn’t possibly be hers. But something inside him still clenched uncomfortably at the sight of her holding a child. They were both aware that she could never possibly know the joys of motherhood without her progeny being taken from her.

Head bowed, he steered his mind to more productive topics.

‘You need to stop seeing him,’ he told her.

‘Who?’

He studied her expression, but her face betrayed little outside of the usual tenseness, the fear that always accompanied the presence of a Turk.

‘Your friend with the silver hair.’

She nodded. ‘I wasn’t planning on seeing him again, anyway.’

‘It’s important for you to understand,’ he insisted. ‘There are consequences if you accept any more bookings from him.’

She said nothing, only stared straight ahead at the neon-lit bar they were heading towards.

‘Tell me you understand.’

‘I do,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing about that man that’s worth risking my life for. So you don’t have to nag me about it. I won’t see him again and thank Gaia for that.’

They stopped at the glowing pink entrance of the bar, Aeris gently bouncing the baby against her chest and pressing her mouth against its temple. She resolutely wouldn’t meet Tseng’s eyes as she waited for him to conclude. He watched her, remembering the naked silhouettes he would glimpse through her Bee window when her blinds were only halfway shut. His gaze roamed over the curves of her body, wondering how such a frail little thing had remained unbroken in the grasp of ShinRa’s mighty General.

She caught him looking and glared, as though to ward him off. He afforded her another faint smile. The little Cetra had always been full of surprises.

‘Be careful, Aeris,’ he told her.

‘I’m always careful.’

Once it was obvious that the exchange was over, she turned and sank through the gaudy plastic curtains that led to the bar. Without even saying goodbye. Then again, they had never needed to exchange such formalities. Like she had said, he was always there.

Tseng straightened his suit, ran a hand over his hair, and turned to leave.

•

Aeris was so giddy with relief that she couldn’t stop smiling when she got back to the Bee and put her working gear on. She was practically magnetic in the bar. Men flocked to her to enjoy her easy laughter and the pearly shine of her smile. She managed to squeeze in four consecutive bookings before eleven – and she was still smiling when she took her shower, turning her face up into the warm water as she let herself sink into a rare feeling of freedom.

They didn’t know. At least, they didn’t have the full story about the blood. Whatever the lab assistant had told Hojo – whatever _Sephiroth_ had told them – it hadn’t been enough to incriminate her. She was off the hook.

There was still Delaine to worry about, but managing to survive a meeting with Tseng was enough to keep her spirits high. She pulled stockings up her legs, zipped a clingy pink dress over her lingerie and made her way down to Boss’s office to get the details of her midnight booking.

He was at his desk, fingers steepled in front of his mustache. She closed the door behind her and drifted over to the chairs.

‘You saw him last night, didn’t you? At the Intra Meum?’ Boss asked. ‘Did you – succeed?’

The less people knew about the events of last night, the safer she’d be. With that in mind, she shook her head at Boss. ‘I think Snow might’ve had some time with him,’ she lied. ‘I’m not sure what happened, exactly.’

Boss reclined in a symphony of creaking leather.

‘I hope for both our sakes that Delaine won’t get too impatient,’ he told her.

Aeris only shrugged. She could feel her pulse beginning to pound faster again, and she didn’t want to return to her earlier state of panic. She forced a smile and changed the subject.

‘So who do I have?’

‘An Upworlder,’ Boss told her. ‘Goes by the name of Mr Black. He’s booked you for an hour at the Desert Rose, five thousand Gil for regular full service.’ He must’ve noticed how Aeris perked up at the mention of one of Midgar’s most expensive hotels, because he added, ‘Of course, I told him you only did outcalls for the richest VIPs of Midgarian high society…’

‘You did _not_ ,’ Aeris said, outraged. Boss smiled at her.

‘You’ve got half an hour to get up there. Chop chop.’

•

 

Word was that they’d built the Desert Rose hotel entirely from materials harvested in the Wastelands. The honey-coloured bricks were made of barren sand, the walls sheer rock. Every little piece was shot through with golden veins, so that everywhere you looked there was opulence hiding in the stark décor. But all Aeris felt as she walked into the lobby was bleakness. She trailed her hands along the walls, feeling the dead scabbed skin that they’d peeled from the Planet’s surface. Who could possibly enjoy sleeping in a place made of dead things? At least she wouldn’t have to pretend to be comfortable here for a whole night.

She went straight for the elevators with the room number in mind, smiling and nodding at the receptionists as she went. Perhaps it was simply the dead earth they’d used for the hotel walls, but she was beginning to lose the high that had animated her since Tseng had failed to arrest her. A feeling of foreboding weighed heavily in her stomach. She stared at her reflection in the elevator mirror as it propelled her up to the twenty-fourth floor, dabbing at her rouge to try and get back into the zone. She had almost exclusively done hotel outcalls for Sephiroth, after all. Maybe a part of her was still expecting to see him.

He was there in her mind as she walked across the carpeted corridor. His pupils turned to slits, body poised over her like a cage of knotted muscle and silver hair. Last night he had spoken to her in a language he couldn’t possibly know, pressing an incoherent scream of images into her head. Her heart pounded as she came to the door. It wouldn’t be him. She wouldn’t be seeing him again – that’s what she had told Tseng. This was just a regular outcall.

She knocked. A muffled voice invited her in, so she opened the door. The lights were off. White smoke churned in the golden neon lights from outside, the contents of the room rising out of it like some misty landscape. There was a bed, a couple of armchairs around a small table, a huge TV screen fixed to the wall. ‘Mr Black’ stood over by the windows, cutting a tall, wide-shouldered silhouette against the windows. She squinted, realizing that the golden lights traced the bumps of a silver braid that fell down the length of his black shirt.

Perhaps she would have been more surprised if she hadn’t somehow been expecting to see him. Sephiroth turned to greet her, his body rolling through an insubstantial white maze that seemed to shift around his every movement.

Oh, Gaia. He was going to give her hell.

‘I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t be here,’ Aeris began, her throat tight. ‘I’m sorry. There was a misunderstand - ’

It happened without her even noticing. She expected to be facing the door, her hand closing over the handle. But her body hadn’t moved. She tried to send the signals again, consciously telling her body to move. Again, it stayed perfectly still, like the connections had been severed.

She looked desperately at Sephiroth. He was doing something. He had to be.

Cigarette clamped in his lips, Sephiroth tilted his head. And her legs started walking forwards. Without her telling them to. She strode across the room, stopped at the small table and put bag down on one of the seats without her controlling anything.

‘What are you doing?’ she gasped. At least she could still talk. She strained to keep her eye on Sephiroth as he casually kept smoking. There was a steaming teapot and a few mugs on the table. Her hands began approaching the naked metal of the teapot.

She could feel the heat of it. Gaia, she was going to burn the skin off her palms.

‘Sephiroth _– stop it,_ ’ she bit out.

With his free hand, Sephiroth held up a piece of yellow materia.

‘This is what you used, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know what that is,’ she said desperately.

‘Manipulate materia,’ he told her. ‘Use it on an enemy, and you can make them do anything you want. Which is the only explanation I can think of for last night.’

The teapot was millimetres away from her palms. She could already feel the sting of the burn as she anticipated what came next.

‘It was an Entice spell!’ she cried. ‘I did it wrong, it was my first time. I didn’t know how to stop it.’

He considered this for a moment. Then her hands moved to the teapot handle, wrapped around the cool black plastic. She sighed with relief as she felt the weight of her arms again, the way they trembled now that he had let go of them. It was strangely difficult to tell her fingers to unwrap from the handle – they detached from it one by one, like they’d been glued there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, gripping her forearms as she tried to trust her own body again.

‘Why would you need to use an Entice spell on me?’ Sephiroth demanded. ‘We already have this arrangement. You didn’t need to force me into anything.’

‘I used it because you aren’t exactly a very gentle person,’ Aeris growled. ‘As you just demonstrated.’

Sephiroth cocked an eyebrow at that.

 ‘No Entice spell has ever affected me so violently,’ he said. ‘What kind was it? Was it your own magic?’

‘No,’ Aeris muttered. ‘A friend of mine – a friend gave me an Enemy skill materia. She was from the North, so. It was Northern magic.’

‘Mm. A ‘friend’,’ Sephiroth echoed. She watched him warily as he strode over to the table. He held out an arm to crush his cigarette in the ash tray and she bristled, not flinching away as she used to, claiming her space in that armchair as he invaded it. She sat stubbornly still until he’d straightened up again.

He tried to make a completely impersonal scan of her pose in the silence that followed: she was sitting there, stilettos digging nervously in the carpet. Fuchsia swept from her thighs, hugged her waist and ribs like dewy petals clinging to a flower bud. His eyes touched the bulge of her lips, the chestnut strands tickling her throat, then dared to meet her glowing green gaze.

 _I want to do this with the both of you,_ she had said _._

It was difficult to push away the reminiscence of her skin texture, the way it had felt to be inside her with no other care in the world than the feeling of her, wet and supple and desperately pulling him closer. _I want to do this…_ he should’ve known something was off from that sentence alone. She had never shown any particular willingness to partake in these bookings, so he should’ve known that she was up to something.

…no, that wasn’t right. She would show willingness sometimes. But it was only despite herself, only when she was so far gone in the mire of lust that she no longer held onto her pride.

He slid a hand along the back of her armchair, watching her struggle under the weight of his gaze. Perhaps what wounded him the most was that he’d allowed himself to appreciate her desire. Feel _flattered_ by it. Like some kind of simpering fool.

 ‘You did not unman me so completely on an Enticement spell alone,’ he insisted. ‘There was something else. Tell me what you did.’

‘I swear that was all I did. I mean, after the spell went wrong I did try to cure you, but – ’

‘Using your gift?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why would you do that? You had me cornered. You could’ve done anything you wanted to me.’

Her fingers were trembling as they plucked at folds in her dress. ‘I thought I was capable of that, too. I thought I could be as ruthless as you. But I’m not. I don’t enjoy hurting other people.’

‘But you wanted to hurt me,’ he murmured. ‘When you pulled those curtains shut and used that spell. A part of you wanted to see me suffer.’

She stayed silent, decidedly not contradicting him.

‘I wanted you to know what it feels like,’ she finally said. ‘To have no control.’

He pursed his lips. Gaia, she could see right through him. She understood why he needed to dominate her and put her in scenarios that even he found ridiculous once the glimmer of arousal had burnt out. His fingers prickled with the cold of shame at being read like an open book. How long had she known? Had she understood his motives before he’d even understood them himself?

He exhaled slowly. That wasn’t the right line of questioning. That would be admitting weakness. Instead, he asked, ‘What made you change your mind?’

‘Something happened,’ she said. ‘When the Entice spell went wrong – I didn’t have any control over the situation either. You just lost it.’

‘You mean to tell me that the state you put me in was purely accidental?

‘Yes.’

‘So you tried to Entice me with a foreign spell, and it backfired,’ he summarized. ‘That’s your story.’

She nodded. He waited for her to elaborate on any part of the tale, but that was all she had to say. So he sighed, wondering whether to believe her as he headed for the bed.

‘You know, since I first saw you, I imagined I knew exactly what kind of a girl you are,’ he began as he sat on the edge of the king-sized mattress. ‘What your limits are, and what you’re capable of.’

She watched him, still wary as ever. He lifted a hand in an implicit request, so out of habit she got up from her armchair and walked over to him.

‘But I was entirely wrong,’ he murmured once she was standing in front of him. ‘I don’t know you at all. I have no idea who you are beyond what you allow me to see.’

He was looking at her curiously, like he expected her to step out of this supposed shroud of mystery that she’d cloaked herself in. Aeris fidgeted, hands absently twisting the fabric of her dress.

‘You’ve seen parts of me that I have never shown anyone before,’ he said, his tone deceptively soft. He reached forwards and took one of her wrists, turning her palm up for him to observe it. ‘In a way, no one knows me quite so intimately as you do. And yet, all I see when I look at you is the fiction you pulled over my eyes.’

‘I didn’t pull anything over your eyes,’ Aeris muttered. ‘You chose to see what you wanted. I was just a sex doll who stepped out of her place one too many times.’

‘I never imagined you as simple and straight-forward as that.’

‘You did at first.’

‘And then you surprised me.’ He pulled her wrist to the side so that she turned her back to him. There was a long golden zip following the curve of her spine. His eyes traced it all the way down. ‘You have kept on surprising me again and again.’

It was easy to imagine unzipping the dress, watching the two halves fall away from her naked body. She would always wear black underneath. That was what he requested. Black lingerie looked so striking against her pale skin. He imagined undressing her, pulling that pink ribbon out of her hair and tying her wrists to the bedframe with it, like he’d done so many times before. But it didn’t feel quite right. She was no longer the wide-eyed fearful girl that he could toss around without a second thought. She was… someone else entirely. Someone who hid a wealth of personal history under the glamour. Someone complex. And rarer still – someone who understood him, who could even match him if his guard was down.

She stood there, perhaps waiting for him to unzip her. He could see the faint outline of her bra clasp under the dress. He averted his eyes before even realizing that he was respecting her intimacy by doing so. After a few more seconds, she turned around again, perhaps wondering what was making him hesitate.

‘The issue is that I have become… accustomed to this,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But I can’t continue without knowing who you are.’

Aeris stared at him. It was a common enough request from her clients, but she would never have imagined hearing it from his mouth. He had always been so content to ignore what she wanted, what she liked, who she even was as long as she could fulfill his fantasies. And now… he needed their arrangement so much that he was actually becoming curious. In a way, if he was asking at all it was because he needed _her,_ specifically. Not just a sex doll _._ The concept was so bizarre that for a moment she was at a loss.

‘You know that isn’t how this works,’ she said, going for the usual defense. ‘Clients pay for the fantasy, not the real thing.’

‘I’m not interested in an empty fantasy any more.’

She tilted her head. ‘Are you asking for a girlfriend experience?’

He frowned up at her, asked her to elaborate. She explained the dynamic, the fact that it was a service involving dates, conversations, an intimate and intellectual side added to the usual sexual dimension. In a relationship like that, he could eventually get to know her more intimately. He didn’t seem convinced.

‘I’m not sure it would be any different,’ he said. ‘You would still be giving me a custom-built façade that would fit my preferences. And I have no interest in that.’

Aeris twisted her mouth, trying to figure out other ways to meander around his request. Then he asked her point-blank:

‘Tell me who you are.’

‘The thing is, I don’t think you’d find the ‘real me’ very interesting,’ she attempted. ‘I’m just a slum girl from Sector 5 – ’

‘You and I both know that you’re more than just a slum girl.’

Would he respect her more if he knew she was the last surviving Cetra? Probably. But he would just shift her from the simplistic category he currently held her in and put her into a nobler one with its own set of clichés. It wouldn’t exactly be an improvement. And besides, she shouldn’t even be here in the first place – it made no sense to talk about conditions for future business when there would _be_ no future business.

‘I’m not sure what you want me to tell you, Sephiroth,’ she said carefully. ‘I can’t just reel off my entire life story to you in half an hour. I’m a sex worker. I don’t do that with clients. And plus I’ve been warned against seeing you, anyway, so it wouldn’t make any difference whether you know the ‘real me’ or not.’ She took a breath. ‘I can’t – I can’t do this with you any more.’

He shifted, sitting a little straighter. ‘You were warned against me?’

‘Yeah. By a third party. They promised consequences.’

‘I’m sure I can take care of them for you, whoever they are.’

For a bewildering moment she imagined Sephiroth drawing his sword against Tseng. ‘No you can’t,’ she said. ‘Not unless you want to take ‘care’ of your own employers.’

He looked surprised. ‘Someone from ShinRa threatened you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How peculiar,’ he muttered. ‘They warned me against you too.’

Aeris blinked at that. He didn’t even look particularly frightened by the concept – he had gone against the warning and arranged this booking, after all. ‘Hence the ‘Mr Black?’

‘Mm.’

Aeris stepped cautiously away from the bed, outside of Sephiroth’s personal space. She wondered how likely it was that he’d let her leave if she simply asked.

‘Well, I don’t think there’s anything more to talk about,’ she attempted. ‘I think it would be best for the both of us if – ’

‘Just tell me one thing,’ Sephiroth cut in. ‘How does Hojo know about you?’

This made her go very still. ‘What makes you think he knows about me?’

‘He showed me a picture of you. Told me you were dangerous.’

 _Dangerous._ It felt so bizarre for her childhood nightmare to have talked with her present-day one.

‘You have to understand,’ Sephiroth went on. ‘Since I was a child, I have been encouraged to go _towards_ danger rather than run from it. So you can see why such a warning might’ve sparked my interest.’

Hojo’s name brought up images and feelings that she didn’t want to linger on, much less share with Sephiroth. She tried to speak several times, and then turned away when she finally gave up, wandering towards the armchairs.

‘He has a tendency to keep tabs on people of interest,’ Sephiroth went on to encourage her. ‘Natural materia-wielders, for instance. Anyone who showcases unique abilities. Is that how you know him?’

‘He makes me do annual lab check-ups,’ she said thinly. ‘That’s all.’

‘He has you catalogued as a natural wielder, then?’

‘Something like that.’ She looked over at the door. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

There was a silence. She fiddled with the threadbare edge of her armchair until she heard him stand up. Polished Oxfords knocked mutely in the carpet as he made his way over to her. She could feel goosebumps spreading over her shoulders and down her arms as his presence loomed nearer. Something about being alone in a hotel room with him made her body anticipate all sorts of things – she tried to ignore how her pulse throbbed between her thighs as he traced the line of her dress at her neck. Wordlessly, he tucked in the dress label before withdrawing his hand.  

‘I understand if ShinRa’s warnings frighten you,’ he murmured. ‘But tell me honestly. Even if there were no warnings, would you still want this to stop?’

He was actually… giving her a choice?

Something like glee rose in her chest as she imagined never having to be scared again, never having to untangle her emotions and figure out what she felt towards him. And she was well on the way to constructing a full Upperworld identity by now. The main document she was missing was an ID card, but surely she could get one with all she already had. And Genesis could always help her. She didn’t need him any more.

But at the same time… the relationship was shifting. It had started at the cabaret. He was changing. The fact that he was even asking her the question made her realise just how far he had come. But still, the idea of getting her freedom back spurred the response before she could get stuck in any emotional conflict.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I want this to stop.’

There was a pause. She wondered if he could hear how hard her heart was beating.

‘You’re right,’ he finally said. ‘I have been… obsessive about this. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get this far. And there is too much risk for you now that the company is breathing down your neck.’

She couldn’t believe her ears.

He strode past her and went to the door. She stood there, watching him dumbly as he took down his coat. Was it really that easy? It was going too fast. She wanted to grab hold of his arm, ask him to slow down. Maybe explain his miraculous change of heart a little more thoroughly, so that she’d believe it.

He began to slide his arms into his coat sleeves, still with his back to her. Aeris approached him, mouth parted, trying to find something to say. The high-collared black coat flattered his wide shoulders and cinched his waist. Now that he was leaving so abruptly, some irrational part of her wanted to hold him back, remind him that he’d paid for a booking rather than just a conversation. There were some things that she had come to enjoy – the rake of sharp nails, the tied hands, the way he would press his open mouth by her ear. Being in his presence without him giving her the usual giddy rush of sensations made her feel strangely lopsided. She might try to ignore the thought, but she had become accustomed to him, too.

Gaia, she wanted to slap herself out of it. She should be glad that they were finally parting on equal terms, not – _yearning_ for one last hit of their usual cocktail of fear and pheromones _._ She looked away from him, staring at the flowery wallpaper instead. For a moment they both stood there, expecting the other to begin the goodbyes.

‘You know… the things we did together,’ Aeris began. She hadn’t even developed the thought properly that she’d already changed her mind. ‘Never mind.’  

‘Finish your sentence,’ the General ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

‘I was just going to say, it wasn’t all bad,’ she mumbled.

She couldn’t meet his eye as he wordlessly took the compliment. She felt like she’d betray herself if she looked up.

‘Do you want a refund for tonight?’ she asked.

‘It’s fine. Keep the money.’

‘If you want, I can help you find someone else – ’

‘I told you, I’m not interested in anyone else,’ he said. Then he opened the door. Waited a spell as he stared out at the corridor ahead, before adding, ‘I’m sorry I used Manipulate on you.’

It was the first time she had heard him apologise for anything.

Staring at the silver back of his head, Aeris said, ‘That’s alright.’

‘Goodbye, Chimera.’

‘Goodbye.’

The door clicked shut, and she was alone in the room. She would’ve thought that this was the moment where she’d leap around at the victory she’d just won – but instead she was just confused. One hand fiddling with the dress label at the back of her neck, she went over to the windows to lose herself in the nightscape.

She was free from him. Really free. She tried to repeat it to herself again and again, trying to believe it, but it felt unreal. Gaia, he hadn’t even been able to look at her.

 

• • •

 

_Be there at 3pm. Delaine and I will meet you._

Genesis thumbed his phone screen as he checked the text one more time. It had all the formality of a mission briefing. Except this would be the first mission in which Genesis would be openly betraying the company who had fed him and put a roof over his head for the last fifteen years.

He was sitting in the luscious speakeasy of the Blue Dragon brothel, sipping a glass of rosé. He felt… good. Calm. More lucid than he had felt in years. He only waited about ten minutes before Snow came down through the secret panel in the wall. They greeted each other like he hadn’t spent an entire night chasing her down and breaking her fingers. He was beginning to understand how her mind worked – as soon as someone was of use to her, she changed tack. Where she had been feral and despising the night of the New Year, today she was all unctuous smiles and well wishes. She sat at Genesis’s little round table, completely ignoring the other patrons who were looking at her through the cigar smoke that choked the secret room.

‘I thought we were meeting directly with the Avalanche leaders,’ Genesis muttered.

‘He wanted to see you first,’ Snow said. ‘He doesn’t trust my word.’

The prospect of seeing the man he had always ridiculed during upper-class evenings didn’t exactly fill Genesis with enthusiasm. Especially as he was putting himself on the spot, here. He reclined, drumming his fingers on the table.

‘Are you sure we can talk freely here?’ he said, eyeing the smoking men who were sitting all around them, girls in their laps as they spoke in small groups.

‘This is the Blue Dragon,’ Snow said. ‘We believe in secrecy here. You won’t find any recording apparatus that we haven’t set down ourselves.’

Genesis wondered if each client had to go through a Turk-level interview before being allowed to empty his balls in here. Absently, he noted the use of ‘we’.

‘I thought you were independent,’ he said.

‘I am now. But I owe this place everything,’ Snow said. She went on to explain to him while they waited, how Delaine’s placement of managers in every single brothel made it impossible for any of the workers to accede to a managerial position themselves. She was the ‘house mum’ here – the one who taught new girls, who took care of the brood and did damage control. But she knew enough and was respected enough to be able to run the place, if only Delaine’s straw man would fuck off.

Genesis could easily see where she was going with her little monologue. She talked about the Blue Dragon as possessively as any business owner. He sipped his rosé, giving her a knowing look.

‘I thought you just wanted him to give up a few workers,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to ramp up the intimidation if you want the whole place.’

‘I don’t expect you’ll find that particularly difficult. You’re First Class.’

She had a way of mingling flattery with the pressure of high expectations. But Genesis was no stranger to that particular type of charm. He lifted his glass at her as a way of sealing the deal.

‘About as difficult as squashing a rat, I expect,’ he said with a smile. He had been feeling calmly murderous ever since the mention of Delaine had been made – so he was looking forward to the encounter now that he had been asked to be a prick.

Delaine arrived with the usual pomp, flanked by two burly bodyguards and trailing cigar smoke. Genesis had to repress a scowl as they watched him approach. His beady eyes found Genesis and then would not break off, as though he had caught sight of some rare mythical creature.

‘So it’s true,’ he drawled as he came to their table. ‘How ironic that you should be here after being so recently decorated. Congratulations, by the way.’

He’d only spoken for half a minute and already Genesis had had enough. Delaine had barely sat his nonexistent ass cheeks down on the couch that Genesis reached over the table and grabbed him by his tie, yanking his face down to level with the drinks.

Delaine’s two ridiculous mountains of muscle bore down on him, but Genesis only had to give them a Mako-tipped glare for them to back off.

‘Listen,’ he growled at the old man. ‘I’m not here to do business with you. You’re just the necessary gateway. So let’s all put our cocks away for the time being, shall we? I mean, is it possible for you to talk without sticking your bloated sense of importance in my face? Can you manage that?’

Delaine gurgled something that sounded like ‘yes,’ so Genesis released him. The old man fell back against his couch, mouth frothing at the corners as he spluttered for breath.

‘Here’s how this is going to go,’ Genesis said, planting his elbows on the table and lifting his chin. ‘You’re going to give me all the contact details you have about the leaders of Avalanche. As I’ve elected Snow here to be my partner in this, you’re going to give up all the information you have about her, as well as all the women in this brothel. In fact, you’re going to give up your ownership of this entire place and withdraw all personnel you have implanted here.’

Delaine tried to protest; ‘Absolutely not. Not the Blue Dragon. It’s too important – ’

 ‘These are unnegotiable conditions,’ Genesis snarled. ‘I’ll explain it in easy terms so that your tiny little brain can understand. If you don’t do what I say, I’m going to rat you out. I’m going to explain to ShinRa what you’ve been doing here, and how you’ve been running your business. And I’ll even volunteer for the manhunt, when the President asks for your arrest.’

‘You’ll only be damning yourself in the process,’ Delaine huffed. He was so red-faced that Genesis expected steam to start spurting out of his ears.

Genesis smiled. ‘I haven’t signed anything quite yet. It would be entirely believable that I came here as a mole and nothing more. And don’t forget,’ he added sweetly. ‘I can easily replace the role you have here. I can sponsor Avalanche myself. Give them access to far a deadlier weapon arsenal. I hate to break it to you, Marcus, but you’re really not that special.’

Beside him, Snow was positively glowing.

It was easier than Genesis had first thought. Delaine folded after a few more half-hearted protests. Genesis wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he wasn’t going to hatch some kind of plan to get the Blue Dragon back as soon as he was able, so he told Snow to get the necessary paperwork for a formal request to transfer the nightclub license and building rental rights to her. The next hour was spent reading, signing and speaking in mock-formal tones.

Once he had obtained the contact details of the Avalanche leaders, he tucked his phone into his pocket and held out a hand for a handshake.

‘I’m glad we understand one another,’ Genesis gleefully said.

Delaine glowered at him. ‘You would not have this opportunity for collaboration with Avalanche if it weren’t for me,’ he insisted. ‘You would do better to remember that. Avalanche don’t like it when their allies are threatened.’

Genesis raised his eyebrows. ‘You think Avalanche would shed a single tear over you if you were to conveniently disappear?’ he said. Then, just because he couldn’t resist, he got up, placed his hands on the table and gravely intoned: ‘”My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honour remains.”’

 

‘Spare me the pseudo-poetry,’ Delaine managed to squeeze out past his quivering jowls. ‘They won’t accept a meeting with you once they know you threatened me.’

 

‘Hmm. I suppose we’ll just have to see which of us is right,’ Genesis finished. Then he turned to his partner, and offered her a hand. ‘Shall we?’

 •

 

Later that afternoon, thanks to the wealth of phone numbers Delaine had given him, Genesis managed to get through to someone who spoke through some ominous voice-distortion software. They demanded to know from where Genesis was calling, and requested to be called from a public payphone instead of his personal mobile. Once he’d obligingly gone to the nearest phone cabin, they told him to go to a certain part of Midgar’s industrial complex near one of the Mako reactors at midnight. He tried to protest, but they clearly didn’t trust him enough to let him play by his own rules.

Not even the Turks would’ve behaved in such a cloak-and-dagger way. He was nervous all evening. Being on leave meant that no one expected him to be anywhere – but he still felt completely clandestine just walking down his Sector’s main high street in the middle of the night.

It was pouring it down once Genesis got to Avalanche’s requested location. He stood alone in the middle of a crossroads, Mako Reactor 3’s massive bulk looming over him. The green lights that spilled from the reactor caught on the raindrops. He peered around himself from under his hood. There was nobody out here. Just some ramshackle industrial buildings that had been abandoned. Doors were bolted, windows shattered or bricked up. He kept his mind fixed on that evening spent in the prisoner camp in Wutai so that he might not lose his nerve.

Finally, his phone rang. The garbled voice told him to enter one of the hangers around him. He heard a bolt being pulled, and the creak of a massive wooden door inching open. He located the door in question and strode over to it.

Inside, there was a wide open space with broken shelving units and other apparatus pushed against the walls. In the centre of the floor was a desk, lit by a single standing lamp. A woman was sitting there. Genesis had to strain his eyes before realising that there were masked figures all around them, standing amidst the debris. Watching.

‘Your theatrics are admirable,’ he called to the woman. ‘Though you really didn’t need to waste your time with all this.’

‘It’s just a necessary precaution,’ the woman called back. ‘We’ve never had anyone of your calibre offering to join our ranks.’

Genesis approached the table. He stood by the chair, observing the woman on the other side of the table. She had cropped chestnut hair and a stern, androgynous kind of look. Her hands were laid out on the table, gauntlets covered in materia hugging each wrist.

‘Please feel free to sit down.’

Appreciating her courtesy, Genesis obliged.

‘For the purposes of this interview, I will use Sense on you,’ she informed him. ‘I know the First Class are very resilient to Command materia, so I will need you to relax and let me in.’

Genesis glanced at the small yellow orbs dotting her wrist. Goddess, he hated Sense with a passion. Being robbed of the opportunity to sweet talk and meander his way around conversations made him nervous.

‘Not taking any chances, are you?’ he said.

‘Our contact in Wutai is very precious to us,’ the woman said. ‘I’m sorry but I have to protect him until we know you are trustworthy.’

As polite as she was, Genesis couldn’t help feeling the reality of the situation bearing down on him as she spoke. From here on out, every decision he took would be the equivalent of hammering a nail into his own coffin. He took a breath, thought of his mother’s face when he had chosen Soldier over the future she’d prepared for him. He thought of the bark of his old apple tree bristling against his fingertips, of Hollander and his eternal excuses, of the Wutains’ song that he still heard every night. How his Soldier belt had been too loose the first time he’d buckled it on.

He laid his hands down flat on the table and looked straight into the woman’s eyes.

‘Give me your best shot,’ he said.

The woman tapped into her materia and took a moment to cast the spell. Magic shimmered and pulled at the air around them. He felt it on his skin, making his hair stand on end. He tried not to blink, tried to make himself as open and receptive as he could.

It was like slowly becoming drunk. The spell wound its way into his mind, loosening the defensiveness, the secretive tendencies. Little by little, words began filling at his mouth, begging to be let out. He wanted to tell her everything.

The woman started with test questions. _Your name is Genesis Rhapsodos? Yes. You are currently thirty years old? Yes. You work for the ShinRa Electric Power Company, as Commander of their private army? I do, yes._ Their gazes were locked together, the woman using the clairvoyance lent to her by the Sense spell to feel whether or not he was lying. She started taking bold strides towards the heart of the matter. _Have you ever felt like you didn’t belong at ShinRa Corp? Yes. How long have you felt this way? Since I first started working for them. Have you ever thought of resigning from ShinRa Corp?_ Genesis could feel himself beginning to feel lightheaded as he allowed the truth to come out. _I have, yes. When did these thoughts begin? Mostly this year, in the final stretch of the Wutai war. Why did you not desert before now?_

Genesis swallowed drily. Apart from Aeris, he had never told another soul about his feelings for Sephiroth. He felt the secret was shameful, frivolous, hardly important enough to justify his actions.

‘Why did you not desert before now, Commander?’ the woman insisted.

‘I – I was,’ he stammered. ‘I was duty-bound to the General.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘That is not the entire truth. If you want to earn my trust, sir, you need to answer truthfully.’

Fuck her and her Sense materia. Genesis felt himself rejecting the spell, throwing up his old defenses reflexively as she pushed him. He knew she was right – he had chosen to commit to this, so it made no sense to go in half-heartedly. He stared down at Aeris’s black ribbon which was still tied around his wrist, and tried to lower his defenses again.

‘The relationship I had with the General prevented me from doing what I would’ve preferred,’ he attempted. 

The woman took this in, judged its veracity. She seemed to understand what he was saying beyond the euphemisms.

‘What changed?’ she asked.

Genesis’s fingers balled into fists as he tried to remain neutral. He was wearing a self-deprecating smile.

‘The realisation that he will never give me what I’ve given him over the years.’

‘Which is?’

‘Self-sacrifice. The love and blind loyalty of a slave.’

She observed his expression. ‘Heartbreak is never a good reason to make irrevocable choices.’

Genesis lifted his chin, understanding and yet hating her cold detachment. ‘I have other reasons,’ he said. ‘Ask your questions and I’ll tell you.’

To his relief, she did as he said and moved on to other questions after that. _Do you agree with the ecological goals of Avalanche? I do. Are you familiar with the studies of Professor Fuhito about Gaia theory? He isn’t the only Gaia theorist I’ve read, but yes, I am familiar with his work. What interests you about your mission? Obtaining knowledge about my body that ShinRa has never wanted me to know. And preventing them from causing anyone else the kind of pain they’ve caused me._

He kept thinking back on the interview as he sat in a Wutai-bound aircraft the next morning. It had been easy enough to request a trip to Wutai to voluntarily monitor the rebuilding efforts. Humanitarian relief was flooding to Wutai’s ravaged territories from the four corners of the globe, and while the Second Class were more than able enough to supervise the process, President Shinra had been happy for Genesis to go and supposedly lend them a hand.

_Are you willing to guard the identity of your Avalanche colleagues with your life?_

His hand tightened around the handles near his head. The rotors spun with a deafening sound as the aircraft lowered itself to Genesis’s chosen coordinates. He had requested a landing spot just far enough from the medbay so as not to be totally suspicious, but he’d still spotted the small white building from on high. His heart was pounding in his ears, his mouth dry.

_Are you aware that we intend to destroy ShinRa’s Mako empire and all they stand for?_

He stepped out of the aircraft and into Wutai’s harsh sunlight. The ground was still muddy and torn up, vegetation flattened or uprooted, like much of the territories they’d conquered. There weren’t enough Soldiers in his chosen area for a proper welcome committee, which was exactly how he preferred it. The barracks surrounding the landing platform housed only a fraction of its usual capacity – the men came out to salute him, one of them leading a black chocobo by the reins.

_Is it your intention to help us destroy them?_

Genesis greeted them and waved away the captains of his aircraft. It all felt so unreal, like he was walking through a dream. He heaved himself up onto the back of the bird, gathered the reins. While she got accustomed to his weight in the saddle, he glanced up at the miles of jungle that clung to the side of the mountain he would have to climb.       

_Yes. I want to help you destroy them._

The Avalanche woman had got up and extended a hand to him. Given him the kind of smile that he used to give new recruits – warm enough to feel personal, but not quite reaching her eyes. _Welcome to Avalanche, Soldier,_ she had said. _I’m Elfé. The leader of our movement._

It had been as simple as that. His honesty was all she had needed. He still felt shaken, naked, wanting to cover up what he still could. After so many years of burying the man he should’ve been, it was like that person was far too unaccustomed to daylight to even survive exposure. He felt as fragile and translucent as a newborn as he sat astride his chocobo. Clenching his fingers around the smooth leather reins to stop them from trembling, he led his bird through the dense foliage. She picked her way through thick roots and under low-hanging branches, trotted through trickling streams. She would squawked to alert him to approaching monsters. After the first bloody encounters, he held his blade in a low guard by the chocobo’s flank, ready to parry any oncoming attack.

He was spattered with monster blood and crippled with his usual pains when he got to the plateau. Guards stood by the entrance to the medbay – it was currently in use by the nearest villages, which were mostly likely piles of rubble now. Recognizing him, one of the guards came forwards to take his chocobo. Genesis swung down, stroked the bird between the eyes. The guard asked if he needed treatment. Genesis breathed out. Said he was simply passing to check if the hospital was stocked up enough. They let him through.

Doctor Roberts was easy enough to find – he was the haggard man who was trying to be everywhere at once, checking patient beds, giving advice to groups of sleep-deprived nurses, grabbing things from shelves that were haphazardly stacked with gear. Genesis was loath to interrupt him. Red leathers hooked over one arm, Genesis lingered in one of the corridors until Roberts bustled up to him on another of his quests.

‘Commander,’ he said. He had a low, calm voice despite all his rushing around. ‘What do you need?’

Genesis looked at him steadily. ‘It’s funny how the leaves never turn out here,’ he said.

Doctor Roberts frowned up at him in confusion. ‘To us Midgarians, it’s always summer in Wutai,’ he said, impeccably delivering his part of the prompt.

‘And yet it grows colder with each passing year.’

The codes had been exchanged, but Roberts still didn’t seem convinced. He tilted his head and started bustling back up the corridor, apparently inviting Genesis to follow him.

They made their way through a set of doors and into a section of the medbay that looked like it had received three quarters of the place’s budget. Clean white corridors, automatic lights, a notable absence of people milling around. Once they’d gotten to his office and shut the door behind them, Roberts turned to Genesis and said, ‘I wasn’t expecting it to be you.’

‘The plan changed,’ Genesis muttered. Roberts seemed to be waiting for him to give him something, so Genesis rolled up his jumper sleeves. ‘I’m afraid you’re only getting my blood. Not Sephiroth’s.’

The doctor stared down at Genesis’s bare forearms like they had failed some kind of test. Then he sighed sharply through his nose, and turned to fetch the appropriate equipment.

‘I suppose you’ll have to do,’ he muttered to himself.

There was a medical chair taking up one half of the room. Genesis sat on the chair while Roberts opened drawers and clinked through his loose apparatus.

‘What do you mean, I’ll have to do?’ Genesis asked, trying not to be snappy. ‘Sephiroth and I get the same treatment.’

Roberts came up to him with a tray of needles and empty vials. He had the same harried attitude that Hollander had – like he was going to take just the amount of time Genesis needed before whizzing off again. Genesis placed his bare forearm on the armrest, stared resolutely ahead as Roberts rubbed a ball of disinfectant-soaked cotton against his skin.

‘You get the same treatment now, but your body composition is completely different,’ Roberts said, his voice low. ‘You had vastly different circumstances at birth.’

‘What are you talking about?’

Roberts inserted the needle and then glanced up at his patient. Genesis couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or pitying.

‘Do you get pains that don’t seem to have any biological cause? Pains that persist even after you cure your wounds? Dry flaky skin and an abundance of white hair?’

Genesis frowned at the wall ahead. He was so used to Hollander dismissing his pains that it felt strange for this man to actually address them.

‘No white hair or flaky skin, but I experience all the rest, yes,’ Genesis said. ‘Hollander has never told me why.’

‘This will take a while to explain,’ Roberts said. ‘I assume you met Elfé if you knew the protocol upon coming in here. So I will tell you as much as I can. But the information I am about to give you must _not_ leave this room until Elfé says it does.’

‘I understand,’ Genesis said, his heart pounding uncomfortably hard as his blood flowed out into the doctor’s little vials. ‘I’m ready.’

 

The doctor took the blood-filled vials to another room. Genesis followed. One vial was inserted into the maw of some kind of rumbling machine with a big screen on the front. Once the blood had been processed, a chart became apparent, portraying his blood composition and the different levels of each element. The doctor took him through it. Showed him what was normal about his blood, and what was not. There were elements that other machines simply did not process, the doctor said as he pointed to the relevant symbols – a ‘J’ inscribed in a circle, and another which had the particularly friendly shape of a black skull.

He prepared a glass slide with a drop of blood in it, put it under a microscope. Let Genesis look into it while he explained what he was looking at. Amidst his normal blood cells were small black spidery things that moved fluidly among the rest, preying on groups of healthy cells and turning them into quivering discoloured blobs.

The doctor explained the whole story. It sounded incomprehensible at first, like the plot of a bad horror movie. Back in the late seventies, Hojo, Hollander and Gast made an archeological discovery that was thought to be the remains of a Cetra. They wanted to make human-Cetra hybrids, and so injected cells of this Cetra into Gillian, Angeal’s mother, who had volunteered for the project. Then, Gillian’s cells had been injected into Genesis when he was a baby. This was known as Hollander’s ‘Project G’. But the experiment failed. They monitored Angeal once he was born, discovering that in his case the cellular implantation had succeeded. But shortly after, Gast found out that the Cetran remains were not Cetran at all. And so project G was shut down.

Roberts began to explain that the science department had kept this discovery under wraps, pretending that they were still dealing with Cetran cells when Sephiroth was conceived and reared in Hojo’s ‘Project S’. But Genesis couldn’t get past the first part of the tale. He was transfixed by the sight of his blood cells, bent over the microscope, hands frozen to the zooming wheel.

‘What are those things, then?’ he asked.

 ‘I – beg your pardon?’

‘If they aren’t Cetra, then what are they?’ Genesis glanced up at the doctor. ‘What did they put in us?’

Doctor Roberts pressed his lips into a firm line. This time it was definitely pity that Genesis saw in those dark eyes.

They called her Jenova, the doctor said. Even after all the extensive studies and theories about her biology, nobody knew where she came from or which taxa she belonged to. Gast believed that she was alien, and had written studies linking her characteristics to the great Calamity from Cetran legends. These studies had since been lost, presumably destroyed. Gast had been the one to discover how her cells would act like viruses if wrongly implanted. The chronic pain that Genesis was experiencing was due to this process, which they had named ‘degradation’. It was incurable. Since Genesis had begun having symptoms, he would most likely develop crackling skin and white hair soon enough. Gently, the doctor added that Genesis might not live another year once the crackling skin began to appear.

There was an utter absence of emotion in Genesis’s chest as he took in this information. His hands felt a little cold, but otherwise, he was completely calm. Once the doctor had finished explaining, Genesis simply nodded and thanked him for his honesty. Asked him when he thought the results should be reaching Midgar. Roberts said it depended on Elfé, but that it should be as soon as possible, perhaps within the next week or so. They shook hands, Roberts staring at his patient like he didn’t quite trust him to remain so affable and straight-faced.

 •

Genesis pushed the story to the back of his mind, not allowing himself to linger on it as he did his rounds to several key Wutain villages to check up on his Seconds. The journey back to Midgar made him feel like no time had passed between the thick of the war and this afternoon. Back then he would be shuttled back and forth according to ShinRa’s needs, moved across the board like the pawn that he had been. He watched the landscapes and pearly oceans scroll beneath his feet like he had done so many times before, until all the green ran out and they were flying over Midgar’s wastelands. Miles and miles of barren earth flew under him until Midgar’s great circular walls came into view.

He disembarked. Nobody questioned where he had been – his story checked out, his Seconds had communicated to Lazard who had spread the information where it needed to go. Everything was fine. He got a taxi back home. Reclined in the backseats and numbly watched the streetlights streak past him until his eyes hurt.

Through the front doors. Into the elevator. Up to his floor. He rummaged in his pocket for his keycard, glimpsed his wrist between sleeve and leather glove. His skin was ghostly pale, covering a net of blue-green veins. His hand lingered by the keycard slot as he looked at his wrist, imagining his blood pulsing within. Images of tiny black things wriggling inside – no, he shouldn’t think about that. Shaking his head, he slid the card through the slot. Opened the door and shut himself in.

He took his red trench coat to the bathroom so that he could wipe away the blood spatters. Back in his teenage years, Angeal had gotten him used to doing his own laundry instead of letting the spatters stain on the way to a laundromat – it was a comfortingly domestic gesture to hang up the coat on the shower railing and prepare hot soapy water in the sink. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work carefully dabbing at the stains with the sponge he usually used for blood.

Dirty water trickled from the hem of the coat, splattering black and blue puddles across the shower floor. Genesis let the smell of wet leather and hot soap fill his nostrils, trying to focus.

_Nobody knew what she was. Well, nobody knew apart from Gast. One of his theories was that she was a form of extraterrestrial life._

His veins were full of grimy black gunk like what was pooling beneath his feet. Perhaps that’s why he woke up sometimes, heart beating like he had just run a marathon, unable to tell why he was so scared. Normal human hearts weren’t supposed to process black gunk, were they? Maybe that’s why he couldn’t breathe, sometimes, because the black gunk was too thick, too thick for his heart, too thick for his lungs.

He shook the thoughts away. It was important to focus on the leather. He didn’t want it to stain. But the air was getting thick with condensation. He couldn’t breathe properly. Maybe if he opened the bathroom door, it would be better, it would let some of the fog out. He went to the door, left black streaks across white-painted wood as he pushed it open.

_Once you get to the next stage… I’m sorry, sir. But you won’t have much longer to live._

The air out in the living room was no good, either. He tried to open his lungs, open his chest, straining with all his might as he sucked on the air. But it was like eating chunks of nothing. He couldn’t breathe.

_Nobody knows what she is._

He went back to the bathroom, opened a drawer, found an Esuna. Thumped it into his chest to try and chase away the panic. They had been so small – but there had been _so many_ of them. So many tiny little black dots. Like a bunch of spider nests had burst open inside his veins, tiny baby spiders crawling up and down. No, he _wasn’t_ thinking about that.

His wrists were itching. Maybe it was the soap. He ran a hand down one wrist, covering it in grimy water. He wanted to pull away the skin, peel open his veins, scrub them clean. Goddess, the gunk was inside him. Everywhere inside him. There were bits and pieces of _something,_ some parasitic presence that had always lived inside him. _Always._ Since he was a child. It had been there. Clogging his chest with its quivering black body. Spreading its long spindly legs through his limbs.

He was panting without even realizing it. Goddess. It was inside him. He needed to get it out. Now. Needed to scoop it out with knives and pesticide and a razor blade, that was a good idea, that would get it out. He popped out the blades from his Wilkinson, cutting his fingers in the process. Lined the metal up to his wrist.

He put the metal down. Grabbed the edge of the sink with shaking hands.

There weren’t a great many numbers that he could’ve called to ask for help, and the one he chose certainly wasn’t the most logical option. But he wasn’t thinking straight. He had to hold his phone against the side of his face with both hands, he was shaking so hard. He smeared blood over the screen and his cheekbone as he held onto his ill-chosen lifeline.

Sephiroth’s voice was husky and irritable, as always; ‘It’s midnight, Genesis.’

‘I think,’ he said, his voice thin and wavering, ‘I think I’m having a nervous breakdown.’

‘You could’ve picked a better time,’ Sephiroth drawled. ‘I’m on the other side of Midgar.’

‘I need you to come _,’_ Genesis panted. ‘I need you. Please.’

Immediately his friend’s tone sobered up. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ he said. ‘Wait for me. Put on some music, have some food, distract yourself, alright? I’m coming.’

Genesis tried to push out the words _can you stay on the phone,_ but his mouth was too dry, his tongue a thick lump taking up space between his teeth. The line went dead. He should’ve called Angeal, but there had been so many times when Angeal had needed him and he hadn’t come, he didn’t want to feel guilty about that again. Angeal, _Goddess_ , Angeal was contaminated too, they were all contaminated and _no one was talking about it,_ no one knew about it! No one! It was hilarious! Genesis stared down at the water, phone in hand, grinning uncontrollably, he was the _only one who knew_ in the whole fucking city, it was a joke, a fucking joke. His hands climbed up his face, stretching his skin, pulling his hair back and the person he saw in the reflection was ugly, full of wriggling black things and he could practically _see_ them through his cheeks, he wanted to peel his skin away and see the fucking anthill beneath, tiny little creatures grinding through the network of his veins. He pulled up his eyelids, pulled back his lips, twisted the skin on his wrists and then he was holding the razor again because Goddess, they were not staying, they were _not welcome._ You’re not staying, he snarled at his own veins, this is _my body_ and you’re _not welcome to it –_ metal sliced down his forearms like a knife through  butter and there was blood, bright red blood streaking across the countertop and into the bowl of the sink.

 •

Sephiroth shut the front door behind him with a click. There was light in the bathroom, so he headed straight there. It wasn’t the first time Genesis had called him for a midnight emergency like this, though it must’ve been years since the last call. Back then he still used substances that could turn harmful, and Sephiroth would have the unenviable duty of putting Genesis to bed whilst the latter was completely high off his face and rambling incoherently. Frankly, if this was one of those times again, Sephiroth would be _pissed_. He had been spending a perfectly nice evening eating alone and undisturbed at one of his favourite restaurants, with only good literature for company.

The sight in the bathroom brought him fully to attention. Genesis was standing half-naked in front of the sink, panting, his arms covered in blood as they held onto the ledge. There was blood dripping down the counter, staining the tiles. The shower had become a murky red pool, the glass doors wide open to make space for Genesis’s coat which was inexplicably hanging there.

Alright. This was serious. And Sephiroth had no clue how to deal with it.

‘Genesis? What did you do?’  

He stepped to the side so he could see Genesis’s face in the mirror. The man was haggard, his hair falling over his eyes.

‘You win,’ he spat. ‘You win, _again.’_

Sephiroth felt for the Cure that was slotted in the materia bracer he always wore. He reached for Genesis’s forearm, but the firebrand spun around and gave him a hard push, leaving bloody streaks across Sephiroth’s shirt.

‘The whole fucking universe just _loves_ you, doesn’t it?’ Genesis shouted. ‘What do you do with all that love? Doesn’t it get suffocating?’

‘You need to let me Cure you,’ Sephiroth insisted.

‘I wish you could experience this yourself,’ Genesis snarled. ‘I wish you could know how this feels. But you never will. You’re too perfect. I’m just the mistake they grew from in order to create you.’

Genesis hadn’t spoken to him with so much hatred in a long time. Even if it made no sense, it still hurt. Sephiroth grabbed him none too gently, pushed him up against a wall so that he could cast Curaga. Genesis growled with pain as the deep gashes in his arms slowly closed up.

‘What have you taken?’ Sephiroth asked.

Genesis rocked his head against the tiles, still breathing in gasps. ‘Goddess, I wish I were high,’ he said. ‘I haven’t taken anything, I just – can’t breathe, I - ’

Sephiroth pressed an Esuna into his chest, but it didn’t seem to affect him. He did it again, focusing the magic, trying to amplify it. After the third time, Genesis let his forehead fall against Sephiroth’s shoulder, his breathing turning to sobs. Sephiroth could only hold onto him to prevent him from sliding down the wall.

Genesis had never done this before. The self-inflicted injuries. At least, Sephiroth had never been privy to it. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t think of a single event that could’ve precipitated it. Genesis was at the highest point in his life. And it had been months since that petty jealousy had come between them. So why was it all coming back out now?

Sephiroth slicked Genesis’s hair back as the man’s sobs began to calm down. He was momentarily reminded of Chimera, who'd had her own panic attack that first night they’d spent together. Why were all these hypersensitive people choosing his shoulder to cry on? He was the worst possible option. He had no idea what to do apart from magicking away any superficial wounds.

The sink made a gurgling sound as it sucked down the bloody water. Genesis was finally breathing normally again, hands bunched in Sephiroth’s shirt as he held on tight.

‘You should’ve called Angeal,’ Sephiroth murmured in Genesis’s ear. ‘I don’t know how to do this. And also, you hate me.’

That at least won him a small coughed laugh. He slicked back Genesis’s hair again, trying to glimpse his expression. His hand stayed naturally cupped around his friend’s head, though Sephiroth was uncertain if this was acceptable. 

‘I don’t hate you,’ Genesis mumbled. ‘I was panicking. I’m sorry.’

‘What happened?’ Sephiroth asked. The redhead just shook his head against Sephiroth’s shoulder without replying. The General sighed, before adding, ‘I can’t help you properly if you don’t tell me what you need.’

‘Just don’t leave,’ Genesis muttered. ‘Please don’t leave.’

Sephiroth tentatively leaned his cheek against Genesis’s crown of red hair. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

 

The blood loss and emotional shell shock had all but knocked Genesis out. Once he was ready to move away from the wall, Sephiroth helped him to the bedroom and then busied himself making tea in the kitchen whilst Genesis replaced his bloody leather trousers by a pair of clean silk pyjama bottoms. When Sephiroth came back with tea and slices of fruitcake he’d found in a cupboard, Genesis was sitting against the bed's headframe, feet digging into the covers. Sephiroth sat by him, setting the snacks down on the bedside table.

‘I’m sorry you had to see me like that,’ Genesis said, his voice low and gravelly with fatigue. ‘I was just having a moment of weakness.’

A moment of weakness. Sephiroth could’ve laughed. Instead he pulled back the covers, inviting Genesis to stretch out his legs properly. The redhead did so, and Sephiroth covered him up. Seeing how rare it was for Sephiroth to be so patient and well-intentioned, Genesis started apologising again for his sorry state.

‘Don’t, really, it’s fine,’ Sephiroth insisted. ‘It was my turn to take care of you, anyway. I don’t know how you managed to put up with me over the New Year’s.’

Genesis managed a faint smile. ‘You were pretty smashed, yeah. Scared me to death.’

Sephiroth smirked as he smoothed the covers along the edge of the bed. Then Genesis asked softly, ‘Did you black out, or do you remember what happened?’

Just thinking about it brought back strange, red-tinted images. Chimera and her heavy-lidded eyes. Genesis’s open mouth, the feeling of his neck against Sephiroth’s palm. Soft hair tumbling between his fingers, and the spicy taste of his tongue – Gaia, they hadn’t, had they? He stared resolutely at the neglected mug of tea instead of his friend, trying to put the pieces together.

‘I remember some things,’ Sephiroth admitted. ‘Not everything, though.’

Genesis hummed. There was a small silence, and Sephiroth wondered if Genesis was remembering the same things he was. Deciding to change of topic, he asked, ‘What did you mean earlier, when you said I win?’

The redhead’s eyes flickered tiredly to him. He opened his mouth, seemed hesitant on letting out his answer.

‘It was just gibberish,’ he finally said. ‘Please just – forget what I said.’

He barely took two bites of fruitcake before he was out, huddling in his pillows with his legs drawn up to his chest under the covers. Thankfully Sephiroth didn’t have to think too hard on what attitude to have or what to even do. Genesis was content to rest whilst Sephiroth leant against the headframe beside him, reading something he’d selected from Genesis’s vast collection of literature. But it was difficult to concentrate on the story. His friend’s tortured expression was burnt to the backs of his eyelids, and those hateful words kept spiralling in his mind. _I wish you could know how this feels. But you never will._

He glanced down at his sleeping friend. Placed a hand on the curve of his shoulder. He wanted to tell him how very far from perfection he felt, but he didn’t want to turn the attention to himself. Then one of Genesis’s hands groggily latched onto his, and Sephiroth mutely watched as he laced their fingers together, his throat growing tight.

• • •


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I was TRYING to contain this part of the story to a single chapter but it just ballooned out of proportion, which probably surprises absolutely no one. :'D I cut the 18k words into two 9k chapters instead because I figured 18k is kind of a /lot/ to ask of you guys. So please forgive me if this chapter ends in a weird place as a result, I tried to cut the original bulk in a place that felt most natural whilst balancing out the length of both halves. If that... makes sense. God I'm tired. ENJOY <3
> 
> (if there are any mistakes then it will be due to my extreme tiredness, feel free to give me a shout and point them out to me!)

• • •

That evening would be the last that Sephiroth saw of Genesis for the entire month of January.

 He had woken up, stiff-necked and slightly cold, only to find the space next to him empty. There was still the fruitcake and tea on the bedside table, missing only the two bites that Genesis had taken the night before. On top of the cold mug was a piece of folded paper. Sephiroth had unfolded it, read the contents. Once he got to the end, the paper dropped from his fingers as he got up to search the flat. Only a few things were missing: Genesis’s red coat, his materia, a couple of books and that obnoxious custom-made army bag of his. There were crumbs on the kitchen counter, and a couple of cupboards had been left open, but otherwise no other trace of him. He was gone.

Sephiroth came back to the bed, picked up the note. Skimmed through the elegant lines of black handwriting again. This was something that Genesis did often: meticulously arranged exits, dramatic to the very last. Except these were not the usual circumstances. Sephiroth’s fingertips traced the final letter slowly, carefully, as he would the vein on the inside of a wrist.

 _I will explain everything to you in due time. But there are things I have to do first. Once the time is right, I will tell you where to find me. In the meantime, please keep what happened last night to yourself._  
\- _G._  


• • •

Silver bells tinkling against cheap wallpaper, heels pounding mutely in the carpet – the Bee was on fire again. All throughout the first two weeks of January, nobody could stop the flood of regulars, like their quota of quality family time was finally up and they could come back to their favourite girls. Clients lingering in the main corridor would hear a polyphonic symphony of sex through the cigarette-paper walls – it might be any pervert’s dream, but quite honestly, it was giving Aeris a headache.

On the one hand, Boss was busy enough to leave her alone about Delaine and Sephiroth, but on the other she was completely knackered. She’d just spent the last few hours with clients who would _not stop_ crying their family-man guilt all over her. There was the classic, _I’m such a scumbag, you’re too good to me, this work must give you such a bad image of men!_ And another all-time favourite, _I love my wife, you know,_ whilst happily pistoning away between her thighs _._ She shook her head as she dragged scented wipes over her breasts and thighs, too tired to head to the showers just yet. Men were bizarre, desperate creatures sometimes.

All Aeris wanted was to spend the next half hour sipping tea in her room. But her walls were actually vibrating from the rhythmic pounding of her neighbours’ beds, so she couldn’t really relax. She knocked a couple of times, but they only ever quieted down for about five seconds before the raggedy wails of pleasure started up the crescendo again. It was no use. She was condemned to sit in the middle of this miry orgy and twiddle her thumbs until she added her own _benefactor_ to the choir. Oh, did she love nights like this.

She reluctantly went back down to the bar again, feeling absolutely grotty even after her shower. Men _flocked_. They all knew her and had booked her before, so they looked at her like she was the final stop of some grueling pilgrimage they were on. Smiling, she looked over their heads to see if any of the girls were available to save her. Hegemony hadn’t been around since the New Year’s – the woman was cooking up some kind of surprise, leaving Aeris cryptic texts when prompted. Boss would periodically moan about her absences and try to push the role of the Honey Bee BDSM mistress onto literally anyone else. _How hard can it be? It’s great money, and you’ll get one of the biggest rooms,_ he’d tell the girls, who rolled their eyes at him. It was easy enough to guess what was up, anyway. She had spent an entire night with Genesis after all.

It was nearing two in the morning when Aeris finally glimpsed the dark, glittering arch of a Mohawk near Boss’s office. Aeris thought the exhaustion was making her hallucinate. Harmony was next to her, trying to haggle foursome prices with a pair of young men, but as soon as Aeris poked her and gestured over at Gem she immediately lost all interest. _Sorry, fellas, three hundred just isn’t going to cut it,_ Harmony said, managing to let them down cheerfully enough to not offend. Once rid of the men, they went straight to their friend.

Hegemony smiled at them as she saw them approaching.

‘Where the hell’ve you been?’ Harmony cried as she scooped the skinny woman up into her generous bosom. Gem managed to extract one arm and crook it at Aeris, so Aeris stepped into the hug and promptly got crushed too.

‘I’ve got some news,’ Gem said once Harmony had released them from the cushiony depths of her breasts. Gem couldn’t stop smiling. There was something about her – the way her eyes sparkled down at them, how radiant she seemed. She produced a folded slip of paper and waved it at them, showing off the big official logo of the Midgar Public Bank. ‘Guess who finally got bought?’

‘What? Who bought what?’ Harmony teased whilst Aeris covered her mouth with both hands and laughed. ‘Wait, someone bought _you_?’

 ‘It was about time,’ Aeris put in. ‘I would’ve done him in if he’d gone on hesitating.’

 ‘So what are you doing down here, then?’ Harmony said. ‘You nostalgic already or something?’

‘No way.’ Gem patted her handbag and gave them both a wry look. ‘I’ve just got to give the Boss man his cut.’

‘Oh, Crisis. Please tell me you at least fudged the numbers,’ Harmony muttered.

‘Hey. It’s me,’ Gem said with a wink. Then she turned to Aeris. ‘Talk after?’

‘Sure,’ Aeris said, beaming.

She decided to wait rather than take more bookings whilst Gem disappeared in Boss’s office. She sat at the bar, sipping from an icy glass of Bailey’s as she kept an eye on the office door. It hardly took longer than twenty minutes before it opened again. She watched as Gem marched out, victory etched in the tilt of her chin and her long determined strides. Aeris wondered how long she had fantasized about this moment – the moment she could finally turn her back on Boss and take control of her own career.

The girls met up, Gem leading her friend outside for a smoke so that they could talk without a bunch of horny men buzzing around them.

‘It’s honestly such bullshit to have to pay to ‘sever the contract’,’ Gem grumbled as she took out her Wutain cigarettes. ‘Boss pretends like he’s the most philanthropist brothel owner in Midgar but, honestly? He’s just a blunt-toothed version of the same old bloody shark.’

Aeris lit them both up with a small Fire spell. ‘Did he try to make you stay?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Gem said. ‘He even told me he wouldn’t let me go before I’d trained someone up! Like I’d stick around in this dump and train a girl up for free. Tch. It’s a good thing mentioning a First’s name generally has him tuck his tail between his legs.’

It was odd to smell Hegemony’s sweet cherry-scented smoke in this context now that Aeris had grown used to tasting it on Genesis’s tongue. She eyed her friend, trying to brace herself for the eventual fact that her and Genesis might’ve… done something together that night. She hadn’t heard from Genesis since then, after all. But it wasn’t her business to ask. Technically they had known each other far longer. She had no right to protest if something had happened.

‘Is this it, then? You’re never going to set foot in the Bee again?’

‘Not if I can help it.’

Aeris’s chest was growing heavy. ‘I can’t imagine working here without you,’ she muttered.

‘Aw, babe!’ Gem pulled her into a one-armed hug. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you on the Plate soon enough. Oh, and speaking of which.’ She took out a fancy notebook from her pocket. Aeris watched as she started scribbling something that looked like a street number. ‘We have a lot to talk about, and _you_ need to come and check out my new flat.’

Aeris’s eyes went wide, heart pounding with envy. ‘Already? I thought it would take a million years of paperwork before they’d let you sign onto something like that!’

‘Yeah, well. Technically I would’ve liked to take more time to choose the place as well, but… the circumstances are what they are,’ Gem admitted. She promptly ripped the page out, and Aeris took it. ‘Come by next Monday OK? We can talk properly then.’ 

Aeris looked at her, already bursting to hear what had happened since the New Year’s. She took the paper and tried to change the subject so the curiosity wouldn’t torment her. ‘So how big is it?’

Gem grinned. ‘It’s fucking unbelievable, Chime, I can’t wait for you to see it. There’s a massive living room with glass walls, right, and then six _massive_ rooms...’

 

• • •

 

The holidays were over. The Firsts were expected to show up at the crack of dawn on the appointed return date, mid-January. There was the offensive against Avalanche to organise, now that Wutai was under control.

Angeal had spent most of his holiday shadowing Zack during the pup’s trials as instructor. It was one of the steps towards becoming First, and Zack had thrown himself into the task with a kind of determination that Angeal had rarely seen before. Lazard didn’t have to chase him down – he just pinged Angeal on his phone, and the man strode to Lazard’s office from halfway across the corridor. Easy.

Sephiroth came precisely on time, neither early not late. He strode through the corridors with the usual princely aura of his that forced all the Seconds and Thirds to stop what they were doing and stare. It didn’t matter how silent he was or how he skirted the walls – heads would always turn towards him. Lazard would watch this social phenomenon with amusement. He’d never seen Sephiroth looking so defensive and awkward on the battlefield. He was sure that Sephiroth’s nightmares were filled with busy corridors rather than the bombings and bloody carnage that people might expect. 

Genesis made things difficult. As always. The Commander had gone entirely dark during his leave, as was his wont. Lazard had taken the time to send him multiple reminders over the week. _You are expected at the HQ in a week. You are expected at the HQ in two days. You are expected at the HQ tomorrow. Don’t be late!_ He was at his maximum Soldier-coddling capacity. And still, Genesis wouldn’t arrive. Angeal and Sephiroth lingered in the office, Angeal informing Lazard of Zack’s progress as they waited. Then, once enough time had passed, Lazard placed both hands on his desk.

‘Well, gentlemen, I’m afraid we’re going to have to start without Commander Rhapsodos,’ he said. ‘I trust you’ll put him up to speed.’

While the missions were given, both in hardcopy and in scrolling images on the screen behind Lazard, Sephiroth folded his arms. He and Angeal exchanged a glance. It was only once the briefing was over and they strolled out with files in hand that Sephiroth dared the question;

‘Have you heard from him?’

‘No,’ Angeal replied. ‘Not since the New Year’s. You?’

Sephiroth thought of the morning he’d spent cleaning Genesis’s flat, sponging his friend’s blood from the bathroom sink. He thought of his friend’s reddened eyes, of his snarls and lithe fingers locking around his. 

‘No,’ he lied. ‘I’m sure he’ll turn up.’

• • •

 

Hegemony’s flat was bigger than Aeris could have ever imagined for a Bee girl fresh out of the slums. Hardwood floors, huge windows everywhere, and an open-plan kitchen that was probably three times the size of Elmyra’s. The furnishings and decorations were sparse for the time being – she had only been able to properly do up the BDSM room for now, as it was the one she needed for work. Aeris felt a mindless pang of guilt at having ended things with Sephiroth, when she could’ve persevered a little and gotten _this_ in return _._

While Gem prepared dinner for them in the huge kitchen, she told Aeris about how she’d had rigged up her own alarm system at the front door, explaining that the usual hardware was child’s play to get around for Turks. Aeris was immediately plunged back into the illicit atmosphere they’d shared during New Year’s. She perched on an armrest of one of the sofas, unable to stop imagining Genesis and Hegemony racing through the streets together, pairing up their skillsets to take down Snow. And then afterwards, the night they’d spent together. How had Genesis worded the offer to buy her? Had it been all sentimental? She could see him parading through here, perhaps pushing Gem up against the kitchen counters or the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gaia, she had no business feeling _jealous_. But with no news from him in so long, her imagination was beginning to run away with her.

‘… and all the wall sockets have been checked for bugs, too,’ Gem went on. ‘Wall sockets and overhead lights are apparently some of the best places for them. I went through everything before even ordering a mattress.’

Aeris frowned. ‘I didn’t realise you had to be so thorough. Are you expecting ShinRa to come bursting through your door at any minute or something?’

Gem glanced over her shoulder at her friend with a wicked smile. ‘Well, I haven’t exactly been a model citizen recently, have I? And neither have you.’

That was all the preamble they needed to launch into the heart of the matter. Gem explained how she had tried to make Snow stay, only to have her escape ridiculously easily. (‘She might’ve waited for you if I hadn’t behaved like a completely suspicious twat,’ she lamented.)  Gem went on to detail how she’d dragged Genesis along for the ride, and how Snow had twisted the situation around so that they all entered into a partnership instead of ending the chase on a far sourer note. (‘She’s a real pro, I swear.’)

‘So Genesis is working for _Avalanche_ now?’ Aeris blurted. ‘That’s really happening?

‘Yep.’

‘Crisis. It just – it happened so fast. Last time I saw him he was accompanying half the Soldier force into the Intra Meum, so this is just weird. Did he decide there and then?’

By now they were sitting at the posh black dining table, a big pot of slightly burnt spaghetti Bolognese between them (‘how the hell did you manage to burn _pasta,_ Gem’ – ‘Listen, this is the first time I actually own a kitchen, OK’).

Gem dawdled a little, twirling her fork around. ‘Well… it was bit more complicated than that,’ she started. Then there was a noise – a key turning in the front door. Aeris glanced over her shoulder, heart pounding. After all they’d talked about, she was almost expecting to see a blue suit enter their little sanctuary. Footsteps resounded in the entrance, approaching the open archway that led to the living area.

‘Are you expecting anyone?’ Aeris asked, trying not to panic. 

A tall man in a hooded jacket came in before Gem could reply. He had a strap across the chest, a huge duffel bag weighing at his hip. Without looking at the girls, he bent over to dump the bag by the archway, then straightened up and drew back his hood in one fluid motion. Jagged spikes of red hair fanned across that familiar profile.

Aeris’s mouth parted.

‘Something’s burning again,’ he moaned as he turned around. ‘Honestly, Gem, how hard can it be – ’

His gaze fell on Gem’s guest, and he blatantly ignored her subsequent protests about her cooking.

‘Aeris,’ he breathed, forgetting caution as he stepped towards her and said her real name. Aeris glanced over at Gem, who was grinning from ear to ear.

‘Surprise,’ she said to both of them. Aeris wanted to laugh. Gem had actually orchestrated this. Unable to resist the impulse now that Gem had given her the go-ahead, Aeris got up and walked straight into Genesis’s arms without any further thought. The familiar breadth of his body and the way his arms closed around her made all of what she’d lived between now and the New Year’s feel like some kind of weird dream. She sighed into his chest as he squeezed her against him.

‘Goddess, it’s good to see you,’ he murmured in her ear.

‘See, _that’s_ why I installed a state-of-the-art alarm system,’ Gem called over. ‘Because someone’s too much of a diva to dye his hair and go low profile.’

Genesis broke away from Aeris in order to counter with, ‘I believe the pot’s calling the kettle black, my darling.’

Aeris glanced between the two of them as Genesis went over to the table. He greeted Gem by squeezing her shoulder, and then looked into the pot with an air of consternation. They bickered for a moment about her bad cooking. After the initial relief, Aeris started wondering what he was really doing here if he was meant to be a fugitive from the law, now. They were even acting like he _lived_ here or something.

‘My food doesn’t have to be five star gourmet,’ Hegemony was saying. ‘It’s all about the nutrients. Who cares if it tastes good?’

‘You live on the Plate now, Gem. You can’t talk like you live off of Wall Market nutripacks,’ Genesis said with a laugh.

Aeris plopped back down onto her chair uncertainly. She resumed eating, her chest still aching with a storm of possibilities. Then, finally, Hegemony veered back to the subject at hand.

‘We were talking about New Year’s. Managed to get to the moment where we all jumped into bed with Snow,’ she said. ‘Do you want to go into the specifics, or shall I?’

Genesis glared at her good-naturedly as he sat down with a plate of her pasta. ‘In order to limit the exaggerations, I think I’ll do the explaining,’ he deadpanned.

Aeris looked at the way his fingers spread over the table, remembered with a painful jolt how he had looked at her that night, how his lips had gripped hers while Sephiroth went down between her thighs. She put down her fork whilst Genesis launched into his explanations, trying to concentrate.

Eyes hooded with exhaustion, Genesis briefly told her about Delaine, about his meeting with Elfé and the trip to Wutai. As he laid it all out, the realisation that he was officially working for Avalanche – _Genesis Rhapsodos,_ Soldier First Class, working for Avalanche – dawned on Aeris little by little. It was difficult to apprehend what it meant for one of the most important protectors of ShinRa’s empire to have turned his back on them.  

He glossed over the moment in the labs and went on to explain that there weren’t many places he could go to lay low until Elfé contacted him again. So Gem’s flat would be his Midgarian pied-à-terre for the time being. Doctor Roberts’s report would break out in the form of newspaper articles, pamphlets distributed world-wide, and broadcasts over indie radio frequencies. His next mission would be to protect the physical distribution of the information, seeing as ShinRa had always fiercely guarded their image in the press.

As she watched him talking, Aeris realised he seemed different somehow. There was something… haggard about him. The dark coppery colour around his eyes, the tired sort of calm he seemed to be operating under. His report was cold and factual – he let nothing slip about how he even felt about the whole ordeal. It was just a battle plan that he was sharing with an Avalanche colleague. Entirely impersonal.

‘So you really work for Avalanche now,’ Aeris said again. ‘You’ve quit ShinRa for good.’

He didn’t lift his eyes from his meal; he just nodded. The silence threatened to turn awkward, so Hegemony lifted a glass to him, proposing a toast. _Here’s to jumping into the void!_ The solemn mood quickly lifted after that.  

With Hegemony there, the dynamic of the evening quickly turned to drinking and laughing over the biggest gaffs of President Shinra, over shared experiences of terrible Midgarian law and contrasting theories about how Midgar would really develop under an anti-ShinRa mayor. It was hours and many bottles of wine later that they decided that sleep was probably the most viable option. Aeris put an arm around a rowdy, drunken Gem’s shoulders in order to drag her to bed.

The flowergirl closed the bedroom door and helped her friend onto her bed, both of them giggling about how much taller Gem was and how she kind of folded over Aeris like a human envelope. Once they had settled down, Aeris said, ‘I still can’t believe this is actually happening.’

‘I know. I’m just sort of going with it, but fucking hell. It’s insane.’

‘So what’s it like to live with a fully-fledged eco-terrorist?’

Gem snorted. ‘You know what, I’ve had this place for what… five days? And that was the first time he even ate dinner with me. Most of the time he just comes in, crashes through an entire afternoon and spends all night in the study. That’s the fourth – no, fifth room. On the right. I think?’ She laughed again. ‘I don’t even know. This place is so huge. I still get lost trying to find the toilet.’

Aeris smiled. ‘Are you two OK, then?’

Gem raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t have a clue,’ she slurred. Then she leaned heavily against Aeris. ‘Gods Chime, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. It’s like everything I ever hoped for has just fallen right in my lap, except there’s all these clauses I never expected. Yes, my favourite regular bought me, except he’s gone totally cold on me and he’s completely incriminating me in the process. Yes, I get to live Upworld, but it’s at the cost of my family. And let’s not even mention what would happen if Genesis gets caught. I can’t even do anything to help him, I’m just – over here being completely useless, sorting out paperwork and burning pasta.’  

Aeris laughed companionably as she rubbed Gem’s shoulder. The older woman glanced up at her, still managing to seem lucid even after downing two and half bottles of red.

‘You should go talk to him,’ she said. ‘Whatever that doctor told him in Wutai really did his head in. But he won’t tell me anything.’

Carefully, Aeris said, ‘Are you really OK with that? I don’t want to impose on what you two have, here – ’

Gem laughed. ‘Goddess, there’s nothing for you to impose on. And even with how weird everything is – I’ve got an _Upworld_ _flat,_ mate. Who the hell cares about cocks and men’s feelings when I’ve got central heating! And running water! It’s a fucking miracle.’

Aeris was still grinning to herself as she shut the door on Gem’s bedroom and made her way down the corridor. None of the other rooms seemed to be lit. Perhaps Genesis had gone to bed. Then she realised she could hear something – a shower seemed to be on, somewhere in the flat. Bare-footed, she tapped lightly across the living area and towards what seemed to be the bathroom.

•

There’s water, pouring down his body in a transparent sheen. It shifts and glistens as it thins over his hips and gathers again in ropes between his legs. It falls with an inconsistent patter, sloshing to the floor whenever he moves an arm up and dislodges the flow.

He left the door ajar. I wonder if he did it on purpose. I’m watching from the doorway, hypnotised by the way his pink thighs rub when he moves, heat making blood rise to his delicate skin. There’s a big yellowish bruise on one shoulder, spreading from front to back. Strange. I thought Soldiers could Cure those away.

The distraction of his body pulls me out of my head, pulls my feet across the threshold. I knock on the door on my way in, and Genesis turns his head, keeping his eyes closed as the white moss of shampoo trails down his face.

‘It’s just me,’ I say. I wonder for a moment if he’s still mad at me for what I did to Sephiroth, if that was why he was being so distant over dinner. But then he presses a wet hand against the glass case of the shower, slides one panel open as an invitation. I grin nervously. I’ve never actually gotten into a shower with someone else – and even so, this is Hegemony’s place, it feels forbidden. My hands start working on my clothes, and after a few moments my dress finds the floor.

I climb in, and the warm fog of condensation pillows my body. Before he can turn around, I press myself against his slippery back, reaching around him to hug him. He heaves a heavy sigh as he relaxes into the embrace, sliding his fingers over my forearms.

‘Are you still mad at me?’ I mumble.

He passes his hand over his face to rid it of excess shampoo before turning around. His eyes are red-rimmed, his lips stretched in a wistful smile as he gazes down at me.

‘Of course not,’ he murmurs. Then he pulls me closer to kiss me and Gaia, I’d missed the firm contours of his lips, the way he opens my mouth and curls his tongue around mine.

The cold wall is against my back as he pushes me up against it. We’re getting doused in warm water with the way the shower head is turned, and my hair is getting plastered to my neck and down my front. I’m too dizzy from his kisses to notice. He’s ravenous. It’s difficult to keep a hold of the questions I wanted to ask him as his hands glide down my back, spreading wetness and soapy bubbles over my skin.

‘I missed you,’ he murmurs.

‘You could’ve called.’

‘I wanted to,’ he says. ‘It was just difficult. Everything might seem organised now but it was a mess. _I_ was a mess.’

His arms lock around me as we both stand under the steady rain of hot water. I try to mull the questions over in my mind while he burrows his face in my neck and presses the warm, slippery length of his body against mine.

‘Genesis?’

‘Mm?’

‘What did you find out? In Wutai?’

The water flows down past our shoulders, making my hair shift languidly over his arms.

‘That you were right,’ he murmurs. ‘You and Avalanche.’

I wait for him to elaborate, eyes darting across the shower tiles.

‘There’s something,’ he says. ‘Something inside of us. Something they put there.’

His arms tighten around me and I can’t do anything other than stare at the tiles whilst my heart pounds faster and faster.

‘Is it what’s making you sick?’

He nuzzles the wet hair that’s sticking to my neck for a moment. He seems unable to reply, unable to even move away. Then he takes a deep breath and finally says, ‘I can’t talk about it.’

I can feel him shaking. I turn the heat up, offer to wash his back to take his mind off of it. But however hot the water is, I can’t seem to chase away the chill. I’ve never seen a grown man look so scared.

‘What’s the next step, then?’ I ask him as I carefully skim over his bruise.

Genesis is braced against the shower wall, eyes closed as he offers his back to me. ‘The Turks’ department is responsible for preventing slander against ShinRa from being published,’ he says. ‘They’ve got moles in most major publishing houses and newspapers. That way they get a heads-up about anything potentially harmful to the company. The press knows better than to accept articles that have a defamatory tone, so we’re going to have to be sneaky about it.’

He sighs appreciatively as I massage soap into his shoulder muscles. I can’t get enough of his smooth skin, the feeling of him beneath my fingers. It’s always so strangely delicious to have access to this, to someone I actually want. I wind my arms around him again, pressing myself against his back.

‘What are you going to do?’ I mumble against his shoulder.

‘Probably get cosy with a couple of editors,’ Genesis says. ‘Turn up the charm to get them to smuggle our information in.’

‘I’m sure they won’t resist you,’ I tell him, and he glances over his shoulder at me with a smirk.

 ‘It’ll be a little more difficult than that,’ he says. ‘Elfé told me that when an editor slips up and has to be forced to delete a risky article, he gets a black mark on his profile. Two black marks and he’s out.’

‘Out?’

‘Interpret that as you will,’ Genesis says. ‘These are the Turks we’re talking about.’

I tighten my hold on him. ‘Keep in touch, this time,’ I say. ‘I want to know how it goes. I want to know you’re OK.’

‘Aeris,’ he sighs. He turns his shoulders again, and he’s looking down at me with a small smile. ‘Come here.’

• • •

 

He managed to keep in touch, but not as often as Aeris would like. She would get notes through Boss, never anything specific, simply words on a page telling her he was safe, she was missed, he’d seen such-and-such thing that had made him think of her. A rosebush as tall as a giant, spilling over an iron-wrought fence. An extravagant flower shop that sold rare imported Cosmo Canyon orchids. If he could, he would send her whatever it was – materia, jewellery, books, chocolates. It was regular, daily at first. Then it waned.

Absurdly, Aeris wanted to work with them, with Avalanche again, just to be on the fray of the action. Just to know what was going on instead of loitering down here. With both Gem and Zack being absent from the Bee, she was lonely, stuck outside of the loop. Whenever Avalanche members came into the Bee she would pounce on them, give them deluxe treatment so that they would come quickly and still have time leftover for questions. Sometimes they were young and passionately political, telling her about the opposition’s campaign, about the mayoral candidate whose name she could never remember – Dominic Agalard, Aguillard, something like that – and how they were steadily gaining support thanks to Avalanche’s efforts. It was a slow trickle, and it was difficult to obtain referendum reports that weren’t tampered with, but more and more Upworld blocks would show their support with banners attached to fences and street posts. Their next mission would be the final blow, they said. Keep an ear out. And that was what she did, that was all she did, passively. It was driving her nuts.

One night she was in between clients, loitering in her room and rereading Genesis’s letters when there was a knock on the door. Someone shouted _phone for you!_ from the corridor. She rolled over, grabbed her nightgown and rushed downstairs to Boss’s office with a pounding heart. The man was entrenched in paperwork when she came in. He glanced up, waved her towards the phone.

‘A certain Mr Belamy. Make it quick.’

Expecting Genesis, she answered and pressed it to her ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Chimera. It’s me.’

She tensed at the sound of that familiar deep voice. She hadn’t heard from Sephiroth since the Desert Rose booking. She could see him again now, smoking by the window, a shadow over his eyes as he asked her what she wanted for the first time.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Belamy?’ she asked carefully. If he was using fake names again, it was surely to throw off whatever surveillance the Turks had planted to make sure neither of them met. Aeris wondered for a moment if the phone was tapped.

‘I needed to ask you something. About our mutual friend.’

She glanced over at Boss. It shouldn’t have felt so good, the rush of something forbidden, the reminder that she was still a part of the intrigue, however isolated she felt down here.

‘Do you mean the gentleman from the threesome?’ she said, just to keep in character.

Sephiroth was satisfyingly destabilized. ‘I – yes. Precisely,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to get into contact with him, and he won’t answer.’

Aeris breathed in. So he didn’t know yet.

‘Have you possibly heard from him?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘Has he booked you?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you about my other clients. It would be a breach of their trust.’

‘I’d just like to know if he’s alright. He was distraught the last time I saw him.’

Aeris thought of how Genesis had spoken about his General, hands shaking around his wine glass as he recalled how much he’d sacrificed for their relationship. Surely it was a good thing, for Genesis to leave behind someone who made him feel so wretched. But there were notes of distress in Sephiroth’s voice, and Aeris had never been good at staying stonehearted.

‘Are you sure you haven’t seen him?’ he insisted.

‘I can’t say,’ she stammered. ‘I can’t say that I have. But I’m sure he’s alright.’

He paused, as though mulling over her double-meanings.

‘If you’d like us all to meet again,’ Aeris added, ‘I can relay the message, the next time I see him.’

‘I’d appreciate that. Tell him that I’m waiting to hear from him.’

She swallowed nervously. ‘I will.’

‘Thank you.’ A pause. ‘I’m sorry to bother you. I know I said I wouldn’t call again.’

His breach of character sent a jolt down Aeris’s spine. It was strange, for him to be stripped of his power like this. She was safe from him, she could say goodbye, put the phone down, go back to her life. There would be no consequences. No surprise bookings in the middle of the night. No punishments. It made her allow things into her mind that she hadn’t had room for, back when his presence meant tenseness, calculation, a mental rewiring with each new booking. But the compassion she allowed in blossomed over the fear, eclipsing it, so she was careful as she tended to its growth.

‘It’s alright,’ she said. ‘Take care.’

‘You too.’

• • •

 

The editor in chief of the Midgar Times didn’t believe in censorship. But he believed in ShinRa’s ability to ruin his life, as well as those of his employees. Whenever he received an article by independent journalists who were investigating things they shouldn’t, he would read it carefully. Spend a nice couple of minutes imagining what might happen if the news got out. Then he would file it away in a folder marked ‘Wastelands Pipe Project 1992’. It was an old dead project that nobody ever asked about. Nobody missed the folder when he would take it out to give himself some hope about the young minds out there. Someday, these Mako poisonings, these family tragedies, missing persons, suspicious circumstances of death – it would all get out. Someday, the global denial about ShinRa’s disgusting policies would lift. Someday.

One night towards the end of January, he woke up to the sound of his front door closing. It was heavy, so it always closed with a huff and a loud clank. He took a moment to remember that he lived alone. The front door shouldn’t be opening and closing in the middle of the night. He got up, fumbled for his glasses on his bedside table. When he put them on, he saw two black-clad figures standing in his bedroom.

He froze, expecting them to take out a gun, ask where his wife’s jewellery was hidden. Instead, the tall bulky one with the black bandana over his hair stood in front of the bedroom door and removed the shades he was wearing. Mako blue eyes lit up the dark.

The editor scrabbled for his bedside table drawer. There was a Barrier ring in there. He put it on, and the vaporous magic enveloped his body over his pyjamas. He blinked up at the Soldier, hand still gripping his ringed finger as the spell solidified. There was something awfully familiar about the man’s face.

The slender one sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling down the scarf that covered her mouth. ‘We’re sorry to have to do this,’ she said as she pulled her backpack around to her front. ‘We’re not here to hurt you.’

‘What the fuck are you doing in my house?’ the editor managed as he pressed himself against his bedframe. ‘Are you ShinRa?’

‘No,’ the woman assured him. ‘We just have sensitive material that needs publishing.’

‘But he’s – his eyes – ’

‘He quit,’ the woman said simply.

The editor stared at him helplessly.

‘You don’t just quit ShinRa,’ he protested, as though it were perfectly acceptable to squabble over the politics of ShinRa Corp when there were two _complete strangers_ standing in his bedroom in the middle of the night.

‘We understand that publishing certain types of information may harm you,’ the woman said. ‘But this is a crucial time for whistle blowers. And you are in control of what appears in Midgar’s most-read newspaper. We need you to help us spread the truth.’

She threw several thick brown envelopes onto his duvet. The editor sat up straighter.

‘For Gaia’s sake, I have office hours,’ he stammered. ‘You didn’t think of calling before you broke into my house?’

‘Like I said. This is sensitive.’

The editor sighed, trying to calm down. ‘Right. Who are you, again?’

‘We are allies of the truth.’

The editor shook his head. ‘Of course.’ He looked over at the blue-eyed man, who was still just standing there, apparently acting as the muscle of whatever operation this was. The editor scrunched up his face as the penny dropped. ‘Wait a minute. You – I know you,’ he said. ‘I know who you are.’

‘We can protect you,’ the woman went on, trying to recapture his interest. ‘We understand why the press rejects information that could paint ShinRa as anything less than virtuous. But we have allies in high places. My friend here, for instance, can protect you against anyone who would threaten to harm you or your career.’

‘Alright, alright, slow down.’ The editor adjusted his glasses and hunched over, picking up one of the envelopes uncertainly. ‘What are you talking about. What information is this?’

‘The origin of Soldier,’ said the man. ‘Irrefutable proof of ShinRa’s dabbling in human experimentation.’

The editor licked his lips again. ‘Alright, listen,’ he said. ‘ShinRa sees everything before it gets out. They have eyes and ears everywhere. There are a lot of stages leading up to printing, and a lot of people involved in the process. Even if me and my editors agree to include your information, the collection of articles goes on to the page planning and graphic design teams and it gets signaled. I don’t – I don’t know how anything can slip past the entire team. I’ve never seen it happen. I’m sorry.’

‘So make last-minute changes,’ the woman said. ‘If there are people you know you can trust within those teams. When it’s all ready to go, add it in.’

The editor was shaking his head. ‘Even if I could somehow manage that, what happens when the paper is out? These aren’t just people’s careers we’re talking about. These are people’s lives.’

‘We have the manpower to protect them,’ the woman insisted. ‘Give us the names and addresses of your employees, and I will make it happen.’

The editor looked from the Soldier to the woman. ‘I’m sorry but I find that difficult to believe,’ he said. ‘Who are you really? Who do you work for?’

 •

On the other side of Midgar, Tseng adjusted the headset, frowning as he listened to the conversation.

‘Avalanche,’ he said to the surveillance officer. Immediately she scribbled the time down on her report. She’d called him in as soon as the editor had received midnight guests. Nothing ever happened during her night shifts listening in on this guy, so she was bleary-eyed, having woken up just when the editor started talking in her headset. Next to her, Tseng was impeccable as always, as though he slept standing up so his suit wouldn’t get creased.

‘Should I inform the others?’ she asked. ‘Are you going to go in?’

‘No,’ Tseng said, listening as the conversation went on. Ten minutes trickled by, him remaining stooped over the recording apparatus, one hand on the headset. Once it was over, he took the headset off and handed it back to her. ‘We discover what the information is, and who his allies are within the Times, first,’ he told her, his voice flat. ‘And then we take them all out.’

• • •

 

Sephiroth hadn’t been able to sleep for the past few nights. He would lay there, trying to sort through the possibilities of where Genesis had gone, trying to remember if there had been any signs of distress before that fateful night. He had reread Genesis’s note so many times it was a wonder the ink hadn’t faded.

Sleep materia was something that most Soldiers began using after a while – it was even given to them as soon as they enrolled. But Sephiroth detested how it pulled him down into darkness. Something about having been pulled under by general anaesthesia one too many times, surely. In any case, he preferred to pace his flat, watch the lights of the city around him, perhaps listen to some Nocturnes until exhaustion caught up to him.

When he received Lazard’s message, he was going through the last emails he’d exchanged with Genesis, picking out what sounded forced or unnatural. His phone bleeped several times. Scowling, he picked it up and checked.

_Turks are calling for back-up. Danger of confidential info leakage to the press. Strong suspicion of rogue Soldier involvement. Come to my office right away._

 •

Angeal was waiting for him when Sephiroth checked in at Lazard’s office: the bulky First was leaning against a desk with his arms crossed, brow set like a heavy ledge over his eyes as he watched Sephiroth come in. Lazard wasn’t there yet, so Sephiroth allowed himself to turn towards his old friend.

‘You got the message, too?’ Sephiroth asked. Angeal raised his eyebrows as if to say, _obviously. ‘_ You think it’s him?’

‘He’s been AWOL for almost three weeks now,’ Angeal said gruffly. ‘What I don’t understand is why he hasn’t contacted either of us. He’s always been impulsive, but…’

Sephiroth let out a slow exhale through his nose, leaning against the desk beside Angeal.

‘He would’ve at least told me,’ Angeal went on, as though talking to himself. ‘Maybe even asked me to come with him. If he really decided to switch sides.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘New Year’s. Same as you, right?’

Sephiroth looked away, fingers finding the counter behind him. ‘Yes, around that time,’ he lied.

Angeal looked at him mutely. He seemed to take a moment to convince himself before speaking.

‘Sephiroth. I’ve been meaning to ask you…’

‘Yes?’

 ‘You… Did he admit…’ Angeal cleared his throat. ‘Did something happen between you?’

Sephiroth frowned, immediately catching on. ‘Are you implying that I might be the reason why he might’ve potentially switched sides?’

‘I’m not necessarily putting the blame on you,’ Angeal said. ‘It’s just, I know that he had quite a lot of issues regarding – well.’

‘Regarding me?’

‘Regarding you, yes.’

Both men were looking at different abstract points in space – Angeal seemed to be repressing something, as though there was a wealth of untold things that were threatening to spill over as he brought up the cause of him and Genesis’s divide for the first time. And Sephiroth, well, he was trying to keep a mental wall up against the assault of memories that were threatening to invade him; the taste of Genesis’s mouth, the wolfish snarl as he’d pushed Sephiroth away, accusing him as always of robbing him of all he could’ve been.

Sephiroth lifted his chin. ‘If you’re talking about the jealousy, that hasn’t come up in a long time. He’s been a lot better – ’

‘For Gaia’s sake, I’m not just talking about the jealousy.’

‘Then what?’

He had hardly even taken a breath that Angeal was up in his face, hands gripping his suspenders and pulling him close so that he could glare at him with all the rage he’d been keeping in.

‘You seriously don’t have a clue?’ Angeal seethed. ‘How can you not see how he bends himself out of shape for you?’

The General’s eyes were wide with surprise as he took the accusation. ‘I do _see_ that, of course I do, I just – ‘

‘You just think you deserve it all, don’t you?’ Angeal went on. ‘That it’s _normal_ for someone to give up their time for you and sacrifice every other pursuit?’

Sephiroth pushed him away, straightening his coat and refusing to meet the other man’s gaze. ‘You have no business holding me accountable for Genesis’s actions. He has always followed his own judgment, often to the detriment of common sense.’

‘So you’re just going to stand there and act like you had nothing to do with how fragile he’s become?’

Images of blood-spattered hands and red-rimmed eyes filled Sephiroth’s mind. ‘Genesis is not fragile,’ he bit out.

Angeal could only sneer at that. ‘You really haven’t done any more than scrape the surface, have you?’

There was the sound of the electronic door sliding open. Lazard stared at the duo as they looked away from one another. The director only sighed and strode over to his desk with a curt greeting that both Firsts returned.

‘I assume you will have both guessed our concerns about the potential identities of the Soldiers involved,’ he began. ‘The Turks are currently moving in on the Midgar Times building. The Avalanche collaborators are being heavily guarded by Avalanche themselves and Second Class Soldiers from Genesis’s bunch.’

 ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean what you think,’ Angeal said firmly. ‘Our men have been jittery since the end of the war. They’re not all proud of what they’ve helped to accomplish. I’ve had dissent in my own ranks, too.’

Lazard seemed unsurprised that Angeal might take the side of his childhood friend. ‘He hasn’t shown up for three weeks, Angeal,’ he said. ‘Sending you and Sephiroth is a necessary precaution. We’re trying to avoid a bloodbath, here.’

‘So what are your orders if we do find him?’ Angeal asked. ‘You want us to haul him in?’

‘By any means necessary, yes,’ Lazard said without even batting an eyelid. ‘Orders from the top are to incapacitate him if he continues to put either the Company or its assets in danger. Failure to engage _will_ result in sanctions.’ 

Angeal shook his head, hands curling into fists. Sephiroth could only watch, heart pounding uncomfortably hard as Lazard spoke with the same level tone he used to talk about any other petty criminal.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Angeal said. ‘You don’t even have any certainty that it _is_ him and yet you’ve already put out a warrant for his arrest?’

‘You don’t understand the severity of the situation, Angeal,’ Lazard told him.

In the next few seconds, Angeal did something that Sephiroth would never have thought he’d see in this lifetime. He marched up to the desk and slammed his hands down on it, making Lazard’s keyboard and pencil pots rattle. A large crack appeared along the edge.

‘Here’s what I understand,’ Angeal growled. ‘Since he was a child – a _child –_ you shoved his head full of dreams about obtaining First Class. You encouraged him to forsake his own inheritance and break away from his family to reach that dream. And now, when he’s no longer useful to you, when there’s the slightest suspicion of threat – you’re ready to toss him away. Just like that.’

 ‘You give us too much credit. He always wanted Sephiroth’s prestige,’ Lazard said. He’d gone a little rigid in his desk chair. ‘There was already plenty of fire there before we came to fan it.’

‘Don’t you dare talk like you know the first thing about him,’ Angeal snarled.  
  
Sephiroth placed a hand on Angeal’s arm. ‘If we find him,’ he said with forced calm, ‘and I doubt we will – but if we do, we’ll handle the situation accordingly. I’m sure there’ll be no need for violence.’

Angeal only shrugged him off. He grabbed the headset from Lazard’s desk, shoved the plugs into his ears without further ado. Sephiroth plucked his gear off the table too, glancing furtively at his colleague as Angeal turned his back on the both of them and marched out.

•

 

By the time the two Firsts were dispatched near the Times building, the fight to pick off Avalanche’s collaborators was well under way. All the personnel of the Times who were helping the editor in chief would be arrested and brought in for questioning.

It should’ve been simple. They were all paper-pushers. Except the Turks were reportedly getting picked off, and the fight was attracting attention. ShinRa liked to operate in the dark – too many witnesses would spark too many questions. Sephiroth and Angeal constituted the bulk of the reinforcements, flanked only by a few of their best Seconds.

The Midgar Times building rose out of the darkness, illuminated from the inside by dim blue lights. Their stylised logo crowned the glass doors of the entrance. Already Sephiroth could see sparks of magic being used from within the building, and lights were beginning to turn on in the residential buildings all around. However much ShinRa tried to control its image, there was nothing quite as incriminating as blatantly enforced censorship.  He scowled. Playing around with the press had always been messy.

Sephiroth made his way inside. Where the blue suits hid behind pillars and desks, he marched straight through open ground, magic bristling around his palms. The black-clad Avalanche figures saw him coming. Foolhardiness made them stand their ground. Their bullets caught in Sephiroth’s Wall spell, clinked noisily to the ground as he marched through the hail of gunfire. Sephiroth had no time to pity their poor tactics. Ice tore through their throats, burst through their stomachs as he pinned them to the walls with sword-length shards.

The ex-Soldiers who had teamed up with them were less idiotic with their lives. As soon as they saw that the Turks had brought back-up, they either fell back or surrendered. Head high, Sephiroth marched along a line of kneeling ex-Soldiers, all of them bowing their heads down to the ground. One of the editors they’d been protecting was among them, hands trembling, sweat drenching his shirt. The Turks hauled him off, whilst Angeal rounded up the Soldier deserters.

Sephiroth ground his teeth as he watched them leave. He kept expecting to see Genesis. Surely the man would know that ShinRa would send their best for this, surely he would protect his men by confronting Sephiroth himself. It was too easy without him there. In barely ten minutes they’d secured the area and arrested the editors, rallying them all into one of the conference rooms where Rude and Reno stood guard over them. Sephiroth paced whilst Tseng forced the editor in chief at gunpoint to go through the digitalized versions of the paper and show them the fraudulent article. Once it was deleted from all databases, Tseng and his Turks ran another check. Then it was time to check the printers, and the vans.

Tseng opened the doors of the Midgar Times vans, unveiling stacks and stacks of printed papers. They could take no chances. It all had to go up in flames. He turned to Sephiroth, who stared unseeingly at what he had to burn.

‘He isn’t here,’ he said to Tseng.

‘Sephiroth, we don’t have much time,’ Tseng urged him.

‘You said you were sustaining heavy losses,’ Sephiroth said. ‘It couldn’t have been just the Seconds. He was here, wasn’t he?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ he said. ‘Those Seconds were very well trained. They would give trouble to any Turk.’

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes at the van. His left hand opened, magic coursing down his veins and prickling his skin. Then Fire erupted within the van, leaping from stack to stack and devouring it all. He knew Genesis had been there. It was a gut feeling – he could smell him all over this operation. The raging protest against censorship. The idea of information as power. But if he wasn’t there now, then it could only mean that their operation wasn’t contained to this building.

Sephiroth couldn’t bear the thought of a whole squadron of ShinRa troops closing around his best friend if Sephiroth were to open his mouth and mention the possibility of him being elsewhere. So for the first time, he disobeyed. He kept his mouth shut. He watched Tseng, wondering if the man had had the same idea as him – that perhaps Genesis was somewhere out there, leading the second half of this mission. But Tseng was bent on finishing the task at hand. They had to ensure that a fresh batch of Times papers saw the light of day in barely a couple of hours.

The Turks stayed with the Times personnel in order to supervise the reworking of the paper, whilst Angeal and Sephiroth took the ex-Soldiers and Avalanche members back to the ShinRa HQ for questioning. Whilst Angeal interviewed the Seconds, Sephiroth lingered in the freshly cleaned corridors, eyeing the roughed-up Avalanche members through the glass of their prison cells to see if any of them looked particularly green. He picked off the youngest, dragged him to the appointed interrogation room. Took care to ensure that all recording apparatus was off.

It hardly took five minutes before the boy was hissing through bloody teeth that Genesis was indeed overseeing the next part of the operation. That the printing had been done way before the time and location that had been leaked to the Turks. That Genesis had anticipated everything. Right now, vans belonging to other press companies would be dropping off the Times to every corner store and supermarket in Midgar. And they couldn’t possibly hope to stop them all without attracting attention.

Sephiroth pinged Angeal, and they met up in the observation room overseeing the place where the young Avalanche recruit was wheezing through his mouth. Sephiroth told his friend of the situation. Angeal crossed his arms and sighed. Both of them knew that they were faced with a much more difficult to choice to make, now. They had the information. They could either notify their superiors, or decide to let it happen.

Each passing minute counted as a minute of conscious abstention. Sephiroth’s fingers were cold and clammy as they plucked a cigarette from his pack. He imagined Genesis in the same black attire as the rest of them, eyes glowing in the dark. Sitting in the back of a loaded van, his sword across his lap.  

‘What do you want to do?’ Angeal muttered. Sephiroth sucked crackling embers up his cigarette. He could still see the lantern glow on Genesis’s skin, lighting up his auburn hair. The clink of glasses resounded in his mind as he recalled what Genesis had told him.

_I stayed because of you._

He tapped ash off of his cigarette, staring down at the Soldier logo on Angeal’s belt.

‘If he’s chosen to do this, then it has to be in everyone’s interest,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Or at least, in our interest.’

Angeal watched him for a moment. ‘You think whatever information he’s thrown his career away for – that it’s worth it? That it’s worth all of the lives he sacrificed for the sake of a diversion?’

 _All that ever counted out there was that you were loyal to me,_ Sephiroth had told him, the tang of whisky on his tongue _._

 _‘_ I want to trust him,’ Sephiroth said.

Messages were popping up on their phones as Tseng and Lazard informed him of how they were wrapping up the situation. The two Firsts shared one last glance. Then Angeal typed a message back to Lazard – _interviews inconclusive. More time needed._

 

• • •


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, very open to comments on whether or not these scenes work. :'D Thanks for reading!

• • •

 

It was the first day of February. All over the city, headlines were propped outside of corner stores, postmen began peddling across the fancier districts to throw newspapers into immaculately sprinkled lawns. Paperboys slinked down the train to distribute papers through the dirt streets down below. Slummers shuffled out of their barely heated homes with coins in hand, threaded their gloved fingers through crisp, freshly printed paper.

There had been Peacekeepers stationed at as many shops as they could handle, checking the stacks to make sure the illicit newspapers weren’t among them. Plastic-covered stacks bearing the right newspaper on the top were accepted as the ShinRa-validated ones. It was the simplest tactic in the world to place the right newspaper on a stack of illegal ones, and once they had realised this, they checked a thoroughly as they had the time for. But human error and a too-thin net of surveillance meant that the news got out, crept onto the shelves whilst the Peacekeepers frantically tried to keep up with the workload.

Around noon there was a city-wide raid. Peacekeepers forced shops to shut down as they gathered stacks of newspapers up. But it was too late. The paper was already circulating, its contents only made more valid by the crack-down. As the day went on, people started sharing meaningful glances as they went about their ordinary lives – there was a general air of disbelief pervading the Upperworld, a hesitation about what the television chanted in circular, repetitive litanies. _The ShinRa Electric Power Company would like to inform you that Soldier deserters are circulating false information. They mean to create terror and dissent. If you are in possession of this fraudulent edition of the Midgar Times, please signal it. Failure to do so will result in severe penalties._

In the ShinRa HQ, a stack of the Midgar Times sat in the centre of the long table in President Shinra’s conference room. The ShinRa board members stood around the table, muttering to each other and pointing down at lines and graphic photos in the article. However much they might try to clean up the mess, the damage was done. The evidence came from a reliable lab, from a reliable scientist. The sources were credible and detailed. Legally, it was going to prove very expensive to untangle themselves from this mess even with the corruption and bribery they had always employed. And even if they managed to make the accusations go away, there was talk about ShinRa’s shares dropping dramatically in value, and shareholders backing away from an asset that was fast growing problematic. Nobody was surprised that ShinRa might be accused of something like this, and all of their allies were immediately jumping off the boat as a result. The President’s great red-clad bulk was quivering at one end of the table, one fist clenched around a newspaper, the other around his cigar.

Finally, Hojo arrived. Immediately there was a clamour in the room, different Department heads shouting their accusations at him. Some were affronted by the idea of human experimentation – the Jenova project was old, and not everybody on the board had been put up to speed concerning the specifics. 

‘Let the man speak,’ President Shinra boomed, his voice successfully drowning out everyone else’s. ‘This is his fuck-up. Professor, if you would.’

 ‘First of all,’ Hojo began, his voice trembling. ‘You should all know that the nature of the Jenova cells has always been controversial. The living organism known as Jenova was identified as Cetra upon discovery, and at the time we felt justified in our efforts to revitalize this ancient, extinct race. This was a human venture into our own past. Nothing is more human than wanting to know where we come from, I’m sure we all agree on that.’

‘So you experimented on _unborn children?’_ Reeve shouted, and the clamour rose again. President Shinra had to slap the table several times for the noise to die down again.

‘Our Soldiers were injected with Jenova cells, giving them access to the free use of materia, and granting them superhuman abilities,’ Hojo explained. ‘There was no suffering involved, nothing that hampered their evolution as children. Of course, there were breakthroughs all throughout our research which led us to believe that the cells we had given them were not Cetra at all. But as this project was tied to the lifespans of the First Class, it was impossible to simply shut it down, or even predict how the project would develop. In subjects such as Sephiroth and Angeal, for instance, the results are very stable. There is symbiosis, and neither of them will experience the symptoms that Genesis will.’

 ‘None of that matters, you absolute dunce,’ Heidegger shouted. ‘Experimentation on babies and infants can’t be justified by whatever positive results you gleaned from them. And now that this information is out, the entire Soldier project _will_ have to be shut down – you do realise this, don’t you?’

The President cleared his throat and finally spoke up: ‘Only the three First Class have had this treatment, so this does not affect the entire Soldier project.  This does not have to be as catastrophic as you think. The public will be easy to pacify – all we have to do is persuade them it’s a hoax, and focus on the extraterrestrial angle. They are too comfortable in the monotony of their lives to want to believe something like that. The Firsts will need to be given a believable euphemism about their genetic make-up – I’m sure they won’t believe the alien angle, either. Now in the meantime, what the Company really needs to save face is to find a martyr. Pin this on an individual rather than the company itself, and throw them to the wolves.’

There was a babble of urgent conversation around the table, regarding what evidence they still had of the Jenova project and who was tied to it. Hojo’s name kept cropping up, but the President wouldn’t have it, mentioning that Hojo was vital to sustaining Sephiroth’s good health.

Encouraged by this vote of confidence, Hojo said loudly; ‘The choice of martyr seems intuitive enough.’ Everyone turned to him, so he was practically licking his lips as he spoke; ‘From my standpoint, I believe Hollander is the most relevant and disposable asset we have here.’

This was discussed for a while, until Heidegger piped up again. ‘Is nobody going to talk about that Rhapsodos boy? He’s a bit more than a goddamn _thorn_ in our side at the moment, I think? No?’

The President sighed, leaning heavily on the table. ‘If he is truly helping Avalanche’s cause, then I don’t think we have much of a choice, regarding Commander Rhapsodos.’

 

• • •

 

Gem was clicking the last clips of her steel-boned bustier when her buzzer went off. She dusted her hands off and texted Snow that her client had arrived.

Having a manager rather than working full-time at a brothel was a dynamic she’d totally lost touch with since working at the Bee. But distance was necessary between her and Snow for the time being. It had already been difficult enough to go to the Blue Dragon and ask to see her to strike some kind of deal after the chaos of New Years’. Snow had seemed impressed that Gem had the balls to seek her out. She’d drummed her fingers on her desk all throughout the conversation, and Gem had tried her hardest to ignore those long spidery fingers and how bent out of shape they’d been last time they’d had a conversation. Still, it was partly thanks to Gem that she was even sitting at that desk. So the proposition to enter into a contract where Snow profited off of Gem’s business seemed like an appropriate way to kick off from the mess they were in. Being business partners was at least one step closer to friendship.

Gem slid on a long translucent black gown, jawline tickled by the glossy feather collar as she strode down the corridor to let her client in. Her neck and back still hurt from her last booking. He had been such a big smelly wreck. She’d spent the entire booking imagining elaborate scenarios where she got to penetrate her client instead – with _knives_. Hopefully this one would be more enjoyable.

He was wearing a marine blue suit, slick chestnut hair framing a scarred face. Gem took in how the tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders. At least she wouldn’t feel like she was sinking into a vat of cottage cheese at every embrace with this one. Maybe the evening wasn’t entirely lost, after all.

He nodded as a greeting, and she led him in, hoping that her only physically acceptable client of the evening wouldn’t be too weird. As exasperating as it might’ve been, she’d take smelly and standard over fit and psychotic any day.

He watched as she shut and bolted the front door, and was already reaching into his suit before she even prompted him for the money. He was quite the gentleman, paying without being prompted. She waited quite happily as he took out was a small leather wallet. That is, until he opened it and revealed a ShinRa-stamped badge.

The words ‘Department of Administrative Research’ figured in blue above his name.

‘I’m sorry to let you down,’ he said, ‘but I’m going to need to search the premises.’

He was a Turk.

Ice rushed down Gem’s spine. She should’ve been more prepared for a moment like this. She’d arranged the flat so that clients would only ever have access to a portion of it – the doors to the living area and rooms were locked, but it was nothing a Turk couldn’t kick down.

‘You have a warrant?’ she stammered.

‘We haven’t needed them since the start of the Wutai war,’ he said. ‘State of emergency and all that. If you’ve got nothing to hide, ma’am, you’ll be fine.’

Gem was desperately racking her brains to try and remember if Genesis had left anything incriminating in the flat as she led him down the corridor. She opened doors to rooms that Genesis didn’t use, first – the Turk wouldn’t let her out of his line of sight, so there was no way she could check the study before letting him in. Usually Genesis rolled the mattress up, packed his things away, took his materia with him. All too quickly the Turk finished with the unremarkable rooms and she was opening up the door to the study with trembling hands.

The door swung inward. Her guest stepped in. Anger rose in her throat and for a moment she hated Genesis for putting her in this situation, for taking advantage of her good will. But this had been her choice, too. She was a collaborator. She felt it now more than ever, keen as though she’d been branded. The Turk could see it, surely. It was why he was prowling, slow, patient as a man who knows that there’s no need to rush when the result is certain.

There was the rolled up mattress against the corner, the books piled up on the desk. In the emotional frenzy, her hatred turned right around to love again. Genesis had left the place so clean and tidy. He’d known what to expect.

‘You’re quite the bookworm,’ the Turk commented as he fingered the spines of the books. ‘Never met such an erudite call girl before. Assuming these books are yours.’

For a moment the fear dissipated. ‘I’ve got to do something while my clients try to find my clitoris,’ she snapped.

She caught him smirking as he turned to search the rest of the room. Apparently the Turk had a sense of humour. Who’d have thought? Rude had never smiled during their bookings. Was it Rude who had tipped them off? Told them that she’d had close contact with Genesis over the past year? She pictured his straight face, his clothes pressed and ironed right down to his underpants, his habit of paying extra for going ‘above and beyond’. He had always been so nice. But he was a Turk. For them, duty came before everything else. Even common decency.

The Turk was crouched by the mattress. He’d plucked something from the floor and was examining it. Gem lingered by the desk, feeling her blood going colder and colder with every passing second.

‘Your clients don’t come to this room, you said?’

‘Not usually. It depends.’

‘Had a redhead lately?’

He showed her the strand of auburn hair he was holding. Gem put a hand on the desk behind her, visualizing the guns that were in her bedroom like she could will them into her hands.

‘I have a lot of wigs,’ she said. ‘You saw them in my bedroom.’

‘There’s no need to lie,’ the Turk said as he straightened up. ‘We know you’ve been sheltering Genesis Rhapsodos.’

‘Who?’

He was coming towards her.

‘I told you. Don’t waste your breath. When is he coming back?’

‘I don’t know who you’re – ’

He backhanded her without warning. She spun around the desk, her body moving by itself. His hands were on her wrists in the next second and there was no more thinking. Her legs kicked, her wrists twisted, her teeth gnashed with the effort of fighting him off. He slammed her face against the desk, pressing her down with a hand between her shoulder blades. She could feel him against the backs of her legs, twisting her arms behind her back.

‘What the _fuck_ d’you think you’re doing – ’

‘How long have you known Genesis Rhapsodos?’

‘I told you, I don’t fucking know anyone called – ’

‘If you lie again, I’ll break your wrists.’

Her breaths came loud and hard as she tried to process what was happening. The cold of the wooden desk against her face, the ledge cutting into her bare thighs. The man bent her arms up so they felt ready to pop out of their sockets and _Gaia_ this couldn’t be real –

‘How long have you been seeing him?’

She closed her eyes. ‘About a year.’

‘Did you enjoy the relationship?’

‘What? What’s that got to do with – _fffuck!’_ He’d pulled her arms up higher. ‘Yes! I enjoyed it!’

‘What did he ask you to do?’

He asked the questions fast, like he wasn’t even listening to her answers. She knew exactly what he was doing but the pain made her keep up, made her answer more and more reflexively. When he meandered back to more pointed questions she was giddy from pain and anticipation, her body tensed all over.

‘So he bought you this flat?’

She gritted her teeth against the reflexive _yes_. ‘I bought this flat with the money he gave me.’

‘How long has he been staying here with you?’

‘The buying process is meant to be a path to independence. I live here by myself.’

‘Alright. Then when does he usually _visit?_ ’

His groin was pressed up against her backside. Panting, she strained to look over her shoulder at him, trying desperately to waylay the inevitable.

‘You know, this doesn’t have to be all work and no play,’ she huffed. ‘Maybe if you give me the right incentive, I’ll tell you what you need to know.’

‘Answer the question.’

‘I know you Turks get off on this kind of stuff,’ she said. She started moving her hips, rubbing herself against his crotch. ‘There’s no need to hold back. The others never do.’

‘Please. I’m not that much of an amateur,’ the Turk snapped. ‘I’ve been on the force for almost two years.’

She’d thrown him off, at least. She went on in the same vein, and he went on defending his pride though she could feel a growing erection against her backside. Then finally, he moved away from her so that she might stop rubbing his cock – and his grip loosened. She twisted away, breaking out from underneath him. Her elbow swept up, jabbed him in the throat. He staggered, retching and choking. She clicked the distress button in one of her earrings as she ran for the door but he was on her again in seconds, rasping for breath even as he wrenched her towards him.

There was a glint in the corner of her eye. She looked down.

He was taking out a knife.

Mindlessly, she froze, anticipating the feeling of icy metal slicing into her skin. In an impossible stroke of luck the knife glanced off of the bones of her bustier, tearing across the fabric. He was caught up in the momentum, so she threw a knee up between his thighs as hard she could. He grunted in pain, grabbing her, and they fell to the ground.

The knife was vacillating between their bodies. Gem had never focused on anything so hard in her entire life. She held his wrist to try and control where it went – but then he struck her face and the pain distracted her long enough for him to roll over and straddle her. With a grunt of effort she grabbed his wrist with both hands just as she felt a cold line biting into her neck. With every breath it sank further into her skin. She growled like a wild animal as she held onto his wrist, blackened tears streaming down her face. 

‘Tell me where he is.’

‘ _Fuck you!_ ’

He moved and suddenly the cold blade was in her mouth, pressing horribly against the inside of her cheek. Her panting was pressed with voiced sobs by now. She held onto his wrist so hard that her nails drew blood.

‘Tell me where he is and this stops right now.’

She couldn’t think of anything else except that coldness in her cheek and the blood on her tongue - _get it out get it out get it OUT –_ she screamed and jerked her head to the side in a last attempt to destabilize him. The blade sliced through her cheek before continuing its uncontrolled plunge and thudding into the carpet. Pain webbed over her entire face, the usual elasticity of her cheek disappearing and making her dizzy with panic. But it wasn’t over. She lunged at him, ripped the knife from him without even seeing what she was doing. The naked blade cut her palms open as she wrenched it from his grasp. Then he was on the floor and she had sliced the blade across his throat so hard that the spatter covered her from forehead to cleavage.

She crouched over her kill, her chest heaving with each breath. She almost expected Bee girls to come rushing through the door. But she was alone. She had no idea how long Snow would take to get there. She scrambled to her feet, still holding the knife in her trembling grip as she went to gauge the damage.

One look in the bathroom mirror and she almost vomited. Her left cheek was hanging open, her eyes wild. Blood covered her jaw and throat in a sticky crimson sheen. The salt of her tears was making the gash sting even more. Numbly, she thought to herself that she’d have to change her whole brand now, if this was the face she was selling. Zombie girl. Vampirella. A hysterical laugh was bubbling in her throat, but it hurt to even smile.

When Snow found her she was stitching herself up, two fingers like blocks of ice against her cheek as she pressed the skin together. She was so shell-shocked that she hardly even heard the woman’s heels clack noisily across the bathroom tiles.

‘Give that to me, you’re making a mess of it.’

Sturdy hands plucked the needle from her grasp. Snow stood in front of her, turned her slippery face into the light so that she could resume the stitching. 

 _Took you long enough,_ Gem wanted to say. Her wasted lips tried to form the syllables, but her throat could only gurgle a bubbly red whimper.

‘Don’t talk, _hàlfviti,’_ Snow snapped. ‘The point is to close this up neatly, not stretch it open.’

Hegemony ground her teeth and tried to stand still, anticipating the needle. The silver pinprick added an infuriatingly light jab of pain on top of the rest – it felt like nails on a chalkboard, the way it tugged at her skin. There was a pink bottle of potion waiting on the counter. Gem gestured towards it desperately, wanting this to be over, but Snow only eyed it and huffed.  She had a new materia bracer around her wrist. Holding Gem’s head in place, she cast a focused Cure spell, meticulously following the lines of the stitches. She explained that it would prevent the scarring from altering Gem’s face too much – but it was hell to sit through. Gem’s eyes were squeezed shut, a guttural groan vibrating in her throat as it went on.

‘Almost done,’ Snow said as she got closer to the edge of Gem’s lips. She concentrated on that part until Gem thought she might grind her teeth to crumbs. Once she finally let go, Gem opened her mouth gingerly, testing the resistance of her cheek. Her skin shifted and pulled in ways she wasn’t used to. It made her want to puke. She opened her mouth wider, wider still, forcing herself even if it hurt.

‘We need to get rid of that body, if you’re better,’ said Snow.

‘Better?’ Gem cried, wheeling around to glare at her. ‘Look at my fucking face! Look at it! How the fuck am I supposed to work with a huge-ass scar right slap bang in the middle of my face?’

‘You’ll be fine. Cosmetics can fix anything.’

‘Cosmetics?’ Gem echoed. She looked into the mirror, prodding at the bumpy pink scar that wormed its way from the corner of her mouth right up to her cheekbone. However careful Snow had been, her lips were now distorted in a one-sided physiognomic grin. ‘Are you fucking _kidding me?_ What use is this arrangement, exactly, if a Turk can just pop up on my doorstep and decide to hack my fucking face in half – ’

‘I’m sorry I took so long to arrive. It’s just difficult to arrive in a timely manner when this arrangement requires secrecy and discretion. We have to be very careful about how we proceed.’ Snow gave her a stern look. ‘You can shout at me later. For now, we need to get rid of the Turk.’

Gem was looking particularly grim at the idea of facing her aggressor again as she led Snow to study. The body was steeped in its own blood, lying spread-eagle at the foot of the desk and staining the carpet with his fluids. The normally perfumed air stank of blood and piss, and Gem stared hard at her kill, fighting the urge to clamp a hand over her nose.

‘How did you manage to kill a Turk without access to magic?’ Snow asked as she divested herself of her jacket. There was flattery in the question. Gem felt like saying _I’d like to know that, too._ But it was difficult to bring out the usual sass when there was a major comic relief dampener leaking blood all over her carpet.

‘I’m a Hound,’ she said instead. ‘Doesn’t automatically make me a combat prodigy, but I guess it gives me a better starting point than most.’

Snow nodded as she grabbed the corpse under the armpits. Taking her cue, Gem grabbed the man’s ankles and lifted him.

‘I had many encounters with them during my first years in Midgar,’ Snow said as they carried the corpse through the flat towards the bathroom. ‘Though it was years and years ago, they left a lasting impression. They were… very territorial.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Gem wheezed. They dumped the body in the bathtub, its arms sticking up at odd angles. ‘We’re not a very merry bunch.’

‘Mm.’ Snow glanced over at Gem. ‘I remember them all having a brand on their backs. Like cattle. Even the children had them.’

Hearing the implied question loud and clear, Gem turned around obligingly and shrugged off her nightgown so that it dropped to her elbows, giving Snow a full view of her mark. She heard the intake of breath, wondered for a moment why Snow had held onto that particular detail. Perhaps her own childhood bore branding irons and revelations learned too young.

‘At what age do they mark you?’

‘Nowadays it’s around ten years old. Back in my generation it was when you started working for them, so for me it was at thirteen.’

‘Thirteen,’ Snow echoed, and Gem could hear her compassion in the way she said it. ‘Where I come from, that is also the age for growing up.’

The room temperature lowered drastically in the next few seconds. Gem looked at her new manager, from the blood-spattered arms to the elegant poise. Even roughed up like this, she always looked like she was exactly in her element, whether it was bloodbaths or crystal dresses. While she cast the ice spell on the corpse with one hand, she trailed the other down her tattooed neck.

‘This was done when I was around that age, too,’ she said. There was a red smear across the scales, now.

‘What does it mean?’ Gem asked.

They both watched the ice gaining the Turk’s body, covering his blue suit in crystals and adding a deadly polish to his shoes. ‘I will tell you the story another time, perhaps,’ Snow said. ‘Did this man tell you what evidence they had of Genesis staying here?’

Gem sat on the edge of the bathtub with a sigh. ‘No. He just burst in here, asked me a bunch of questions about my relationship with him. I don’t know if they were tipped off by the huge amount of untaxed money sitting in my bank account, or if it was because I used his name unofficially to get certain papers, but… how could they even monitor something like that, anyway? There are hundreds of slummers applying for Upworld jobs and housing every day.’

‘It seems unlikely, yes,’ Snow said. ‘Is there anything else? Any other way they might’ve come to know this address?’

‘I used to see a Turk,’ Gem said with a grim smile, her scar pulling at her cheek. ‘Him and Genesis would sometimes both be present at the gigs they invited me to. I don’t know.’ She leaned on her elbows, burying her face in her hands with a groan of frustration. ‘Crisis, I can’t stay here any more if I have the Turks on my back. But I don’t want to go back down. I don’t want to go back to the fucking slums.’

Snow stepped up to her and placed a cold hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sure it will only be temporary. The city is changing. ShinRa is already losing favour.’

 Gem wiped the tears from her cheeks angrily, sniffing. ‘I’ve got to tell Genesis that he can’t stay either,’ she sighed. ‘Fuck. It’s such a mess.’

 ‘You’re both my partners in this,’ Snow said in a rare gentle tone. ‘There are other places he can stay.’

• • •

 

It was starting. The steady withdrawal of all that was familiar to him. Genesis had expected backlash after the blow he’d dealt to ShinRa, but not so soon, and not so much at once.

First, Hegemony, telling that there had been an incident. Explaining in a teary voice that she was sorry, she hadn’t been careful enough. He hated that he had brought that on her, that he’d let her build so much hope around that flat only for it to crumble like a house of cards. He hated having to place his trust in Snow, who he hardly even knew. He dumped his bag in the speakeasy of the Blue Dragon, looked around and told himself what he’d told Gem. That this was just a set-back.  

Then, Angeal. They had been children together. Sometimes, that counted for something. All Genesis had to do was look at Angeal a certain way and there would be a flicker of understanding, a smile perhaps. So many times, they had grasped each other by the wrist and pulled each other out of the muck of their bad decisions.

But Genesis hadn’t let him pull him up for so long. It was understandable now that his childhood friend might look the other way, standing there in sanctuary of the speakeasy, fingers hooked on one belt as an uncomfortable silence stretched on. There had been words strung on a line between them ever since that argument all those years ago, and they still weighed heavily, drenched in all the things they hadn’t apologised for.

Genesis couldn’t tell if Angeal believed him. The papers, the whole scandal. It seemed to shrink, like the outside world was contained within the friable pages of the newspapers, something two-dimensional that had nothing to do with the real world. This world. The swollen, silent air that contained them both, the nagging impression that something was wrong, like a tap was dripping somewhere or a door was only half-shut.

‘I think they’re taking advantage of you,’ Angeal said. ‘Isn’t it convenient? For Avalanche to want the military to turn against ShinRa like this? All you’ve got is one man’s experiments, one man’s results. Those numbers could mean anything. Those things in your blood could be anything. All this does is point to the importance of our treatment. You’re encouraging the enemy to focus on something that they could potentially want to replicate. It’s dangerous.’

What Genesis heard was, you lost the right to my friendship. You lost my trust. Even as Angeal said things about the evidence being dubious and the idea too far-fetched, Genesis saw the pale walls of their old flat, the dust clusters and piled cutlery and Angeal, poring over textbooks, drawing the blinds to stare down at the city, chasing after him when he dared to eat food on his bed. The feeling of there being someone waiting for him every time he came home. The security of it. Like being all tucked in, the duvet curled around his feet.

He remembered being happy, then. But it hadn’t been enough. That’s what he had said, bag strap cutting into his shoulder, tears slicking his eyelashes into spikes. _It isn’t enough. I’m sorry._ How could it not be enough, to have that ballooning sense of contentment? Wasn’t it what everybody strained to obtain? Perhaps he had been too confident in his ability to reach that state again. The next time he would feel it, it would be somewhere better, with someone better. It didn’t matter if he squashed it for the time being. He had been so sure that he would find it again.

Angeal walked towards the secret panel of the speakeasy, turning his back on Genesis with all the finality of a closed door. There were clichés clogging up Genesis throat, that tired old phrase he remembered reading in the cheap romance novels that his mother used to buy. _Do you remember our promise?_ They had done that once, made the kind of promise they were supposed to hold forever. It was a kid’s thing that kids did while they were still incapable of imagining how their lives would heave and crash and heave again, formless as waves. _Promise we’ll never let each other down. Promise we’ll always have each other’s backs._ He knew they both remembered it. But it was irrelevant now.

‘I’ll talk to Gillian,’ Angeal said. ‘In the meantime, please be careful. There’s still a way for you to come back if you want to. Just don’t expect them to hold the doors open forever.’

Then he was gone, and it was Genesis’s turn to look at empty space that his friend had occupied, to focus everything he was feeling onto thin air. It seemed to rush into him, that empty space, until all of him felt empty and hollowed out. He clutched his bottle of rum, drank directly from it like some teenager. Better luck next time, he told himself as he went to his improvised cot on the stage. Better luck next time.

• • •

 

The Company had a lot of damage control to do, loose ends to tie up, excuses to give. Sephiroth had listened to them just as intently as he’d read those illicit papers. The information that Genesis had sacrificed his career for was… well. It was exactly as the Company said. Far too convenient. As grotesque as any other conspiracy theory that talked about the Planet being hollow, or crop circles and alien abductions. But the fact that someone as well-educated as Genesis had fallen for such garbage made him suspicious that it was, in fact, garbage. And the fact that ShinRa had so violently cracked down on the operation meant that they were definitely hiding _something_.

He remembered Doctor Roberts. He remembered the sterile environments of that medbay, the rushed care that Roberts gave to ShinRa troops. He remembered the bags full of black stuff that they were always hooking up to him. The white coats hovering over him, like so many fruit flies over something rotten, telling him that he wasn’t like the others.

He remembered Genesis, furious and beautiful as he spat the words out. _I’m just the mistake they grew from in order to create you._

There had been another note waiting for him in his flat when Sephiroth got back from the Soldier conference. It was stuffed in a letter that contained some advertisement for health insurance. When the slip of paper dropped out of it, Sephiroth wanted to laugh at the choice of smuggling material.

_Blue Dragon brothel, 1am tonight.  
Code for the speakeasy is ‘Nibel vodka with a hint of cherry.’_

He shoved a handful of silver hair over his shoulder distractedly, like he even needed to think about whether he was going to go. There was no question. He wondered whether Angeal had received a similar note, whether Genesis was trying to draw allies to himself. Doing Avalanche’s bidding by attracting more Soldiers to the cause. No, that wasn’t right. Genesis was far too selfish to act entirely on behalf of some noble cause. He was lonely. Scared, even. Just like that night. Sephiroth understood better now why he had opened his wrists. Believing in something like this would be terrifying.

 •

The belly of the Blue Dragon was dark and scintillating. There was a smell, the combined corporeal fluids of every man and woman in the place joining to form a sticky olfactory pool that Sephiroth waded right into. He wondered if anyone else was bothered by it. He had never been in a brothel before, so he did what other clients seemed to do – come in, check out the girls, go to the bar.

Everything was shiny and metallic and lined by blue or pink neons, screaming of cleanliness even as a miasma of bacterial exchanges went on in the upper floors. He thought of Chimera moving in this sort of atmosphere, and he noticed things that he wouldn’t have picked up on before. Superfluous details. One girl scrolling through her phone, letting one of her shoes dangle from her toes, clearly bored. Two girls sitting together, invested in some intense conversation. Another girl, nodding along and wearing an unconvincing smile as a man talked at her. While he waited for the barmaid to notice him, he imagined Chimera walking down that glowing blue stairway, all bare legs and translucent chiffon. Sitting down by that lonely gentleman over there. Perhaps she’d throw him a look over the man’s shoulder, like she’d looked at him from across the table at New Year’s. _Look at what you can’t have._ Idly, he wondered what she was doing right now. If she knew that Genesis was here.

The barmaid came. He gave the code. All else melted away other than the expectation to see Genesis’s face, the image of him as Sephiroth had last saw him. He was led down a corridor to a sliding panel. The barmaid opened it for him, and he started down a dark stairway.

The room ahead was lit only by candlelight. It was empty but each round table still had a candle on it, like the room was full of ghosts. Thankfully, the smell of bodies excreting their passions was fainter down here, choked by cherry-tainted cigarette smoke.

Ahead was a small stage, with a bare mattress shoved up against a corner. A haphazard pile of books stood beside it, along with several materia orbs. Against the wall stood an array of different swords and guns that Sephiroth recognised.

He didn’t see Genesis until he scanned the room a second time. The redhead was sitting at a table in a dark corner, candlelight catching on tendrils of smoke that escaped from his mouth. Pieces of him detached themselves from the darkness: the arch of his cheekbone, the tip of his nose, the bow of his lips. Sephiroth stepped forwards, and Genesis turned his face more fully into the candlelight as he heard the intrusion.

There was relief, of course, but with it came anger at how long Genesis had let him stew in his worries. Irrationally it felt like he had been here all along, waiting, scorning those who cared. Sephiroth stood in the middle of the room, leaning against a table as he crossed his arms.

‘I did wonder if they thought to check the brothels,’ he said wryly. ‘Clearly they don’t know you as well as they think.’

Genesis scoffed. He put out his cigarette, stood up slowly with a hand on his side, like an ailing man. This was irritating somehow. Sephiroth had seen Genesis limp and hurting before, but now it justified Genesis’s claims, each step an illustration of the hell he was living. Sephiroth would’ve preferred it if he made an effort to walk straight.

‘You really believe this stuff, then?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘I don’t believe it. I’ve seen it,’ Genesis said. His voice was velvety soft and muffled by the darkness. ‘But I guess if they persuaded Angeal, then they will have persuaded you, too.’

‘You saw Angeal?’

‘Of course,’ Genesis said. ‘I wanted to wait for the proof to come out before I saw the both of you. Just so that you’d find it easier to believe me. But I underestimated the Company. They’re good at wrapping you up in their lies, they always have been.’

His words were heavy, bearing nothing of the fervour that Sephiroth would’ve expected. It was like he already knew the cause was lost.

‘Angeal didn’t believe you either?’

Genesis leaned against the stage, rolled his shoulders in a shrug. It wasn’t a subject they broached, the friendship that lay in tatters between both Banorans, but that didn’t mean Sephiroth couldn’t see it. He imagined the painful conversation, the hands curled into fists.

‘I know you’re not doing this for nothing,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But you can’t blame him for being angry at you. You can’t blame either of us. You left us completely in the dark.’

‘And now I’m showing you the light, but you choose to stay there.’

Sephiroth’s jaw clenched. ‘Genesis – they set us on you. They made us hunt you down, that night before the Times came out. We didn’t know where you were, we had no idea what was going on – ’  

‘They made you?’ Genesis’s voice rose. ‘We’re the most powerful Soldiers alive. The Company can’t _make_ us do anything. You made your own decisions, and clearly you both decided to stay in your kennels like the lapdogs you are.’

The accusation pulled Sephiroth’s feet across the floor, made him see red. He was halfway to Genesis when he realised he was just playing to the man’s tune. Provocations, letting his anger boil over. Giving in to violence wouldn’t win Genesis back – it would only give him an outlet for his self-destructiveness.

They stood at arm’s length from one another, Genesis leaning against the stage like a tired actor bracing for a critic. Sephiroth slipped into his usual squared, straight backed pose, because he didn’t know how else to make Genesis listen.

‘I told you I didn’t care whether you were loyal to ShinRa or not,’ Sephiroth said, his tone carefully level. ‘I’m not staying out of love for them. I’m staying because there’s almost nothing to go on but your word to prove that this information is real. You’re asking me to make a huge leap of faith.’

Genesis tilted his chin up. ‘It’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for you.’

Sephiroth gritted his teeth, eyes searching Genesis’s face as he cast around for a response. The words kindled something in his chest, something uncomfortable, like a lump of coal had been shoved between his ribs.

‘I’ve always followed you,’ Genesis went on. ‘I’ve spent most of my life in your footsteps. But I guess it was stupid of me to expect the same kind of trust from a man like you.’

‘A man like me,’ Sephiroth echoed.

‘The perfect Soldier,’ Genesis sneered. ‘Only obeying one master.’

‘I don’t – ’

‘Do you have any idea how long it took me to finally get so much as a second glance from you?’ Genesis bit out. ‘People waste away trying to live up to your expectations, trying to be good enough. We sacrifice too much, and never earn anything back.’

‘I never forced you to sacrifice anything.’

‘Goddess, you don’t even realise, do you,’ Genesis said with a mirthless laugh. ‘What more can I do for you to trust me, Sephiroth? Isn’t it enough that I’ve thrown everything away for this? You know it makes sense. It matches up with everything they put us through. The secrecy. The medical visits. The sponsorship when we were kids. _Kids._ We were being groomed because they already owned us, then. We just didn’t know it.’

 Sephiroth shook his head. He wanted this conversation to stop. There were things surfacing that he hadn’t thought about in a very long time – faces hovering over him, tubes and needles, the beep of machinery. The tests and Hojo’s voice, echoing in the darkness. His hair swept over his shoulders as his head shook from side to side, his breath coming shorter.

‘It’s not an acceptable answer,’ Sephiroth said, parroting the Company’s conference pitch. ‘It’s not believable.’

‘You’re scared,’ Genesis spat. ‘Even if you had a hundred credible sources, you’d still wave them away. You don’t want to see the truth.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Sephiroth protested. ‘The information just isn’t persuasive enough as it is.’

‘Persuasive enough.’ Genesis laughed again. ‘There is no persuading you. You made up your mind a long time ago.’

The finality of the words seemed to stamp out all other possible outcomes. Genesis seemed fully prepared for Sephiroth to turn his back on him and leave through the secret panel. The next time they would meet would be on opposite sides of the battlefield. Sephiroth could already see the scorched earth beneath their feet, the buildings sliced and smashed to pieces. But he didn’t want that. The idea of leaving now made his head spin. There had to be some compromise, some solution.

‘You don’t know what you’re asking,’ he finally let out.

‘I do know,’ Genesis said. ‘I know exactly how hard it is to turn your back on everything you’ve known. Risk everything for the sake of someone you love. But it’s alright. I didn’t expect you to be capable of selflessness.’

‘You don’t know what I’m capable of,’ Sephiroth snarled.

The space between them throbbed with the absence of the contact. He needed Genesis to tip the scales. Push him over the edge. Genesis glanced at him through his hair, a smirk tugging at his lips as he recognised what Sephiroth was doing.

‘I know exactly what you’re capable of,’ he said. ‘You’re still that fifteen-year-old boy, tucking your tail in as soon as Hojo says the word. Most powerful man in the world, can’t even take off his own shackles.’

The cue had been given. Sephiroth backhanded him and Genesis’s head jerked to the side, mouth spitting blood. He let it trickle in a long sticky line from his lower lip, then smiled again, uncovering reddened teeth. The mockery was too much, it was making Sephiroth want to hit him until he abdicated, or maybe drag him back to the HQ in chains. Sephiroth grabbed him by the collar, pressed him up against the edge of the stage.

Genesis’s fingers wrapped around the bare skin of Sephiroth’s wrists, tight enough to leave bruises. Like he was pulling him closer, inviting him to hit as hard as he wanted. Both of them knew how such a fight would go from the countless sparring they’d done. Muscle memory jumped ahead of them, making Sephiroth predict the next three moves – but there was a different muscle memory now too, a different prediction, making him look down at Genesis’s slick, bloody mouth and the way the candlelight shone along its curves.

The redhead’s hands remained on Sephiroth’s wrists, poised in a defensive stance. He was frowning as Sephiroth hovered, far too close for comfort.

‘Come with me, damn you,’ Genesis growled.

Sephiroth tried to say it. _I can’t. I can’t do this._ But Genesis was looking at him like he was the last shred of hope he was holding onto, and for a moment they were kids again, clutching each other on the battlefield as ShinRa machinery roared overhead, standing side by side as their fates were decided for them by a third party. Always a third party. Always someone telling him what was proper, what he should do, what he should want. Always someone else in control.

He didn’t know when it happened, but he was pressing his forehead against Genesis’s, lips achingly close to his friend’s. Something about being unable to say with words, _listen to me, come back to me, come back._ The dark outlines of their chins and mouths merged as Sephiroth kissed him.

Genesis made a small noise of protest, hands climbing Sephiroth’s shoulders. There was a hesitation, whether to push or pull. His lips were slippery and metallic, his tongue just as sharp as Sephiroth remembered. Blood was smeared over Sephiroth’s mouth when he broke away, and Genesis looked at that mouth with wide confused eyes.

It would spoil everything. If Sephiroth gave in to this and kissed him again. But there was no other way of saying what he felt. Nothing that felt quite as appropriate. It was just as violent and irrational as the strike of a fist, when he leaned in again and opened Genesis’s mouth with his tongue. _Come back to me. Do as I say._ There was desperation in the way he cupped Genesis’s face, fingers digging into that soft red hair, pulling him close.

He hadn’t expected the spark of electricity running down his body when Genesis raked his long silver hair back over his head, holding a fistful of it and pulling. The way it strained made him hiss into Genesis’s mouth as arousal rushed down his spine. He couldn’t feel this now, here, not for his best friend – he had always kept those base emotions for people that he didn’t care about. It was wrong somehow, dirty, for these feelings to surface with Genesis here. But Genesis bit down hard on his lip and it got all tangled in the power play as Sephiroth reciprocated. He heaved Genesis up, sat him on the edge of the stage so that his thighs curled around Sephiroth’s waist, and they were panting against each other’s mouths as they allowed their relationship to unravel at the seams.

Genesis’s hands found Sephiroth’s beltline, pulled his shirt out in quick tugs. Goosebumps spread over Sephiroth’s skin as those familiar hands slid under his shirt and climbed up his back. He sighed into Genesis’s mouth, dizzy with the contradiction of wanting that contact and yet being so scared of it.

Genesis touched him greedily, aggressively, never stopping to check if it was alright. His fingers traced Sephiroth’s ribs under the shirt, coming around to the well-defined pectoral muscles. He pressed his thumbs against the nipples, cold contact making the pink buds pucker up. When he rolled and pinched them between his fingertips, Sephiroth’s entire body arched into the contact. No one had ever done that before.

It was intuitive. Mindless. Shirts were tugged open, buttons scattering at their feet. Fingers slid down rocky abdominal planes and into beltlines, cold against the jagged ridges of their hipbones. Sephiroth didn’t know what they were doing, where they were going, how to even stop it. His hands found Genesis’s throat, closed around the long column of it. Genesis only glared at him with eyes half-shut as Sephiroth choked him. Then the rogue lowered his chin, _pushed_ into his hands, bloody mouth open as his breathing was cut off. Chimera had never done that. Encouraged him. He could feel Genesis’s cock through their trousers, throbbing against his.

His hips moved by themselves. Rocked forwards just once. Genesis gave a deliciously strangled moan, and there was no turning back from there. Boots were unzipped, tugged off, trousers were pulled down naked thighs. The velvety heat and thickness of Genesis’s erection against his was enough to make Sephiroth lose himself, moaning shamelessly into Genesis’s throat. At one point Genesis closed his hand around the both of them, sliding up and down in long, loose repetitions and Sephiroth kissed him hungrily, making the kind of low desperate noises he would never have thought himself capable of.

Genesis slid two fingers into his own mouth, lathered them with saliva. He covered Sephiroth’s cock with it, opening his thighs wider as he angled Sephiroth appropriately. The redhead was holding onto him around the shoulders, his mouth open by Sephiroth’s ear, his breaths shaky with need, or fear, Sephiroth couldn’t tell. The feeling of tightness enveloping his cock, of Genesis clutching his shoulders harder, letting out a strangled cry as Sephiroth penetrated him – it was too much. It was everything they’d built together, breaking to pieces.

Genesis wrapped both arms around his shoulders as Sephiroth buried himself to the hilt. He could hear the redhead panting in his ear, feel him nuzzling his jaw as their hips rocked together, staying in synch as though this was the most natural thing in the world for the both of them.

Sephiroth had no idea how long it lasted. He was lost in Genesis’s body, the tenseness of it, the familiar strength locking around him. After a while he noticed that Genesis’s breaths were getting shorter and shorter, and the sound of him losing control pulled Sephiroth dangerously close to the edge. Genesis’s arms tightened around him, and he let out a cry like a wounded animal when he came, thick white seed spattering across their stomachs. He sank his teeth into Sephiroth’s neck to limit the noise, moaning against bruised skin as Sephiroth fucked him through the orgasm. The warm wetness on his skin, the way Genesis’s legs trembled around his waist – it was too good, and his own build-up flew to the peak in seconds. His sighs were muffled in Genesis’s neck as the redhead held him painfully close.

They breathed, staying wrapped up in each other just a little longer. Sephiroth was terrified of what would happen after he broke away. After this ended. In a sense, this changed everything and yet nothing at all. Genesis was never going to come back to ShinRa. Whatever this was supposed to have been, it was very far from any kind of coherent argument now. And Sephiroth wasn’t any closer to making up his mind, either.

The silence between them turned from sexually charged to utterly empty. Genesis was the one to let go first. Sephiroth felt as foolish as a teenager as he withdrew and stepped back, tucking himself in his trousers. It had only been seconds ago and yet it already felt like a lapse of judgement, a moment of madness. Some part of him doubted it had even happened at all, it had been so sudden. But there was blood on his mouth, come streaks across his stomach, the undoubtable grogginess of his post-orgasm state.

He didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t even look up at his best friend. Genesis was still sitting on the edge of the stage, breathing softly, wearing an open shirt and nothing else. He seemed to be waiting. Expecting an outcome, something to signify where they stood now.

‘I should go,’ Sephiroth muttered into the silence.

He felt Genesis’s eyes on him. That was it, then. The final word.

‘Go, then,’ Genesis choked out.

Sephiroth left, wiping the smudged blood from his lips.  

• • •


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter -  
> Suggested listening: Eugen Doga's "Gramophone Waltz"  
> Suggested drinking: Probably vodka :'D
> 
> As always, if there's an issue with the pacing or if anything else doesn't quite work, please give me a shout <3 I'll be reading this over tomorrow to double-check it, for now I just need to let it sit.

• • •

Prevent and conceal. That was ShinRa’s unofficial motto. Gillian Hewley knew it all too well. Her name had been splashed all over the leaked news, so it was no surprise to her when a familiar helicopter flew across Banora’s tranquil skies.

ShinRa’s trust didn’t extend very far, but her status as a long-time Science Department assistant at least gave Gillian the right to a first chance. Tseng stood in her kitchen, schooling her on what to say if she came into contact with her son or anyone else. If she were to reveal anything, it would devastate the Company and the world order that ShinRa had created. She led a comfortable life, here. She shouldn’t compromise it.

Gillian knew them well enough to hear what he was really saying. We will kill you and the offspring of Project G if you validate any of this. Our continued global monopoly is more important than your life, or the thanks we owe you for your collaboration. She nodded, and promised to keep holding the silence that she had already been holding for thirty years.

It was a long time to be stuck in the honey of a lucrative lie. Ever since they had declared Genesis a failure, ever since her son had been born, she’d been biding her time. She would explain her choices to them when they were old enough to talk. Then, when they were old enough to understand. Then, when they started showing interest in Soldier. Then… the opportune moment had never arrived. She had watched them both go after hugging them farewell, running a hand over their hair.

Her two boys. Even if he wasn’t her own, Genesis was like a son to her. The Rhapsodos family had made a mess of their parenting. He should’ve been hers. She had felt such a swell of pride, when she had learned that at least he was fighting for the truth. He was saying all the things she had been too scared to say, freeing all the things that had been trapped in her chest for so long.

She carefully wound the rope into a slipknot, winding it around and around to close the noose. Angeal was different, she knew that. He wanted to believe in the good of the Company. He had always put powerful men on pedestals that they rarely deserved. He was coming to see her in a few hours, and whilst she couldn’t speak to him with words, there were other ways to show him the truth. To validate everything that Genesis was trying to show the world. To repent.

 

• • •

In the evening lights of the 51st floor, Lazard was pacing, lacquered hair slightly disheveled from the countless times he’d run his hands through it to soothe his frustration. Sephiroth arrived in his office first. He had been more and more reserved lately, quieter, and particularly vicious during missions. It was no surprise that the loss of Genesis affected him, so it was doubly important to word things carefully this time around.

Zack arrived a few minutes later, fresh from a mission, his trousers still blood-spattered and his hair disheveled.

‘Where’s Angeal?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘He was meant to accompany me this morning.’

Lazard noted how the boy only nodded vaguely at Sephiroth as a greeting, not even making eye contact. The fraternity that had united the four men seemed to be slowly unraveling – but it wasn’t Lazard’s place to teach them how to behave around one another. As long as their Soldier duties still tied them together, that was what mattered most.

‘We have a problem,’ Lazard said. ‘Last night, Angeal went to Banora to ask Gillian Hewley to clarify her supposed role in Avalanche’s conspiracy theory. Only, once he got there…’ He looked up at Sephiroth, judging how carefully he should say this. The man had his arms crossed, a frown denting his forehead. He seemed to be expecting the worst. ‘She had taken her own life,’ Lazard concluded.

Zack made some loud noises, threw out his arms, created drama as usual. Sephiroth only withdrew from them and leaned against a desk as he took the information. The Turk’s reports claimed that Sephiroth had never met Gillian, but the director supposed that the time he’d spent with both Banorans meant he knew about her, at least. Lazard tried to dispel the memories of the photos he’d received from the Turks, the feet hanging in midair, still wearing white cotton socks with frills around the ankles.

‘We’ve got the situation under control for now,’ Lazard said. ‘But the conspiracy theory has created paranoia all over Midgar, especially in the minds of those concerned. Angeal was taken through several interviews to judge his state of mind, and initially he seemed to believe that we had killed his mother to prevent her from validating Avalanche’s theory.’

‘And did you?’ Sephiroth interrupted. ‘Did you kill Gillian Hewley?’

Both Lazard and Zack turned to look at him. Lazard frowned – the fact that Sephiroth was even asking that question was not a good sign.

‘Don’t be absurd,’ Lazard said. ‘Of course I didn’t. And even if there had been a clean-up to do, you know I’m not responsible for that. The Turk’s department is.’

‘I meant the generic ‘you’,’ Sephiroth said. ‘ShinRa in general.’

‘You are a part of that system, Sephiroth,’ Lazard reminded him sharply. ‘And so are you, Zack. And so is Angeal. You are all aware of the privileges we extend to those who work for us, and the consequences that await those who go against us.’ He pointed a pen at the Soldiers to reinforce his point; ‘ _Us._ Gillian was one of us, too. We sponsored her son once we learned that he was responding extremely well to the Soldier treatments at the time. We entrusted her with knowledge of the treatment, which she kept. And you both know that we never eliminate one of our own without first giving them the benefit of the doubt.’

‘So what, then?’ Zack blurted out. ‘Why would she do that to herself? To Angeal?’

‘She was…’ Lazard sighed. ‘She was an unstable individual. It’s always complicated to know the reasons, in these circumstances – ’

‘Don’t do that,’ Sephiroth growled. ‘Pretend that the fault is all on some tragic mental illness that has nothing to do with you or the situation. If she chose to do this now of all times, there had to be a practical reason. She knew it would have serious repercussions.’

Lazard opened his mouth, mentally traced a finger down the list of euphemisms that the Turks had given him, but Zack spoke up first, addressing Sephiroth:

‘What are you getting at?’

‘I think she wanted Angeal to know what ShinRa are capable of,’ Sephiroth said, his voice a low threat. ‘She was given the benefit of the doubt, but if she had opened her mouth, forced suicide was the fate that awaited her. Regardless of how much she helped ShinRa. Regardless of who they would be tearing her away from. Isn’t that right?’

‘Sephiroth,’ Lazard began, voice trembling a little, but Zack was shaking his head.

‘Angeal’s own mother,’ he said hoarsely.

Lazard stood up. ‘You and the rest of the First Class have in your veins the result of a long, grueling journey towards the perfecting of the human body. If any other nation were to apply the same technology to their own soldiers, think of what that would imply. Think of the consequences. Upholding secrecy is a dirty job, but a necessary one when you hold the most powerful weapon in the world.’

‘That’s the Company’s problem, not mine,’ Zack growled. Sephiroth glanced over at him, eyebrow raised curiously. ‘This might be the dream job, but it’s still just a job, you know. I’m not going to stand here and support the act of pushing someone to suicide – ’

‘Just a job?’ Lazard slammed his hands on his desk. ‘We have modified your entire body. We have upgraded your capacities, both physical and mental. We have given you the key to perfection, to ultimate power and influence, and still you say this is _just a job_ to you?’

Zack bristled, trying to find an answer to that as he bravely faced Lazard. 

‘Remind yourself of your purpose here,’ Lazard told him. ‘Remind yourself of your dream. We’re simply going through a rough patch, like every other election year. Except this time the players are more experienced than the last. And if this Company can count itself as the most influential organization on the Planet, it’s thanks to a certain ruthlessness, and hardiness – efficacy in a crisis.’ He glanced over at Sephiroth. ‘The methods may seem cruel, but the potential outcome is worth every small injustice. Trust me.’

Sephiroth sighed. ‘So what are you going to do? Detain Angeal until he no longer shows signs of paranoia?’

‘We are not detaining him,’ Lazard corrected him. ‘We are simply supervising his reinsertion into the corps after such a traumatic event. He will be allowed to go home soon – he’s always been very cooperative.’

‘And what about Genesis?’ Zack asked.

Lazard saw Sephiroth’s jaw clench as the name was dropped.

‘The Turks said they had leads, but they’ve gone cold,’ Lazard said. ‘As soon as we have a sign of activity, however, I need to know that I can count on the both of you.’

‘What are you planning to do with him?’ Sephiroth asked, his voice flat.

‘That remains to be seen,’ Lazard said. ‘The ShinRa heads took the decision in an earlier meeting with the President; I was only notified of the importance of roping him in. Though I suspect he, too, will be given the benefit of the doubt.’ He looked from Soldier to Soldier. ‘Can I count on you, gentlemen?’

  
• • •

 

Down in the slums, everyone was talking about it. There had been little love for ShinRa before the scandal broke out, but now people were openly talking about the Company’s shortcomings, exchanging theories and judgments about Genesis and Soldier. Some even claimed to have been shipped off for experimentation themselves, and they would gather a following on the street as they told their tales of terror before Peacekeepers would break up the crowds. _Censorship!_ the abductees would shout as they were dragged away, _look, they’re silencing the truth!_ And though most of them were charlatans or simply deluded, they paved the way for more conversation.

Aeris would walk past these charlatans with her head down, wondering whether the real victims of ShinRa’s experiments were walking alongside her among the crowds, keeping silent too. It was invigorating to imagine stepping up on one of those makeshift stages and shouting to the crowds what had been done to her. But as soon as she considered acting on it, her entire body froze. She was paralyzed by shame at the idea of crowds of strangers imagining, visualizing what she had gone through. Of looking at her and seeing something broken, dirty, used. And even worse – the idea of people thinking she was lying, too. That she was just another charlatan begging for compassion.

She pored over her copy of the illicit newspaper at every chance she got, trying to piece together the information and her own memories. Elmyra scolded her when she took up half the breakfast table with it, toast in one hand, pen in the other. _Haven’t you thrown that away yet?_ Elmyra would say. _You could get into trouble, you know._ But Aeris went on underlining words and brushing crumbs away as she reread the same passages ten times.

An alien who was taken to be a Cetra. Two thousand years old and capable of giving human beings supernatural abilities. Aeris wanted to reach out to the Lifestream as she used to, but she knew her mother was no longer there to give her any answers. She frowned, trying to concentrate on what she remembered of her mother’s tales.

_The Calamity from the sky. She came to rob us of our mother. She could look like us, talk like us… even mimic our loved ones. But we recognised her for what she was before it was too late, and we sealed her away…_

Her phone bleeped one morning, sitting by her elbow on the breakfast table. Elmyra had to call over at Aeris from the kitchen sink for her to snap out of it and check the screen.

It was a text from Gem. _Things have gone tits up. Meet at Loveless tonight?_

Elmyra barely had the time to shout _Aeris!_ before her daughter had zoomed out of the front door, coat in hand, calling over her shoulder that she’d be back later.

 •   


The Loveless bar was teeming with early birds, mostly older men sitting at the counter and talking over their morning beer. Aeris saw a tall woman in civilian clothes, wearing her long black hair in a ponytail. When she turned, Aeris saw the shaved sides of her head, the piercings – but there was a gruesome scar cutting across her cheek. That couldn’t be Gem. Surely not. But the woman saw her, put a self-conscious hand over the scar, and there could be no mistake in the way she smiled, eyes lighting up at the sight of Aeris.

Aeris marched forwards, heart pounding. She pulled her into a hug and Gem held on tight.

‘What happened? Are you OK?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Gem said. ‘I’ve got to stay down here for a while before things calm down.’

Then, voice muffled in Aeris’s hair, Gem told her in brief words about the Turk. Aeris grasped Gem’s flannel shirt as she imagined the violence of the encounter.

‘Have you got a place to stay down here?’ Aeris said once they were ready to untangle from one another.

‘Yeah, don’t worry,’ Gem replied. ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do now, though. I can’t bear being useless like this, waiting around for other people to make things happen. If I try to go up to meet them I’m scared I’ll just bring the Turks to their door.’

Aeris squeezed her hand. ‘I know the feeling.’

A female reporter’s voice filled the room, announcing the Channel 3 morning news. The sunken-eyed insomniacs who studded the bar’s tables turned their creaking necks towards the big screen that loomed behind the counter. Aeris ordered hot chocolate and coffee, both girls looking up distractedly at the screen as the barman went to make the drinks.

‘… on the scandal of human experimentation. Earlier today, in an exclusive interview with President Shinra, we learned that the Company has been leading its own internal investigations to find out why their own scientists would leak false information to the public.’

The camera panned to the president’s big sweaty face, his thinning blond hair combed back over his skull and shining with wax. Aeris glared up at the sight of the man who supposedly owned her. He opened his spit-speckled mouth and started talking:

‘“We are greatly saddened to know that some of our own would want to undermine us. To this day, all we seek has been the improvement of living standards all over the globe. Our Soldiers are exceptional individuals who have been protecting the citizens of Midgar for decades – those who would wish to publish slander against them are only endangering themselves, and the stability of the world order as it currently stands.”’

‘Bollocks, all of it,’ spat one of the men at the counter. Several others piped up, lifting their glasses to Shinra’s reddened face as they spat all sorts of colourful insults at him. Aeris glanced over at Gem, who only raised her eyebrows in commiseration. The camera cut to a great dining hall with a big chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

‘The president informed us that he would be meeting with leaders from all over the Planet in a show of solidarity. For many, the installing of Mako reactors allowed city states and townships to blossom and to eradicate unemployment. This Friday, President Shinra will hold a ball to celebrate almost fifty years of collaboration, and to show unity in the face of terrorism…’

‘Are they fucking joking?’ Gem snapped. ‘A ball? To celebrate what? Shinra’s nice little collection of slaves?’

 Aeris glanced at her. Gem had never really spat on ShinRa so vehemently before, as ShinRa members were usually the ones to give her the best deals. Then again, it was understandable for that bubble to have burst now that they were preventing her from setting foot up above. There was movement on the TV, so Aeris naturally looked up again – and straightened, her mouth going dry. It was footage of Genesis from the ceremonial march.

‘… it is believed that Soldier First Class Genesis Rhapsodos may be involved with the terrorist group known as Avalanche. According to our reporters, Rhapsodos is the prime suspect involved in the leaking of false information to the terrorist group. It is also believed that he stole vital elements of ShinRa’s as of yet undisclosed weapon technology in order to help the terrorist movement. If you happen to see this man, please dial the following number…’

Aeris covered her mouth with both hands.

‘Shit,’ Gem said. ‘They must be getting desperate if they’ve gone public with it.’

‘Is he OK?’ Aeris muttered to her. Gem just nodded.

‘I haven't been able to check up on him in case they’re keeping tabs on me, but… last I heard, he’s safe ,’ Gem said. ‘I don’t know about his state of mind, though. Apparently he hasn’t been in a good place these past few days. Drinks a lot, stays cooped up. I think he feels isolated, since his friends have treated the whole scandal like a scam rather than a call to arms. I don’t think he knows how to proceed from here.’

They both sipped at their drinks for a moment, both of them looking at abstract points in space as they mulled over the news. Aeris imagined the Turks focusing their hunt, laying out traps all over the city. Talking to children, who were the easiest collaborators to work with. _What did your father say about the man with the Mako eyes? He said that, did he? Where do you live, son?_   She couldn’t shake the image of the blue suits, guns in hand, stepping out of the shadows. Genesis’s wide eyes as he walked into their trap.

‘I wish we could do something to help,’ Aeris sighed. ‘Show him that he isn’t alone, that it isn’t over just because ShinRa are starting to cover it all up again.’

Hegemony glanced over at her, dark eyes sparking. ‘I think I have an idea.’

 

• • •

They had called Snow on one of Gem’s many work phones, and proposed the plan. Snow had agreed to the potential efficiency of it, told them that she would call back as soon as she had answers from ‘him and his lady friend’, meaning Genesis and Elfé. They had waited nervously, wolfing down a gravy-covered lunch at the Loveless, before Snow had called back. She gave them the green light, telling them time that Elfé had had a similar idea. However, time was of the essence. They had to start getting organised now if they were to rally enough people. Both girls looked at each other with nervous smiles. It had just been a fantasy five minutes ago, so to be plunged right back into the intrigue made them giddy.

They left the Loveless and came to a dirt crossroads, holding each other with trembling hands before parting ways. Aeris headed to the Bee to find the right client through Boss’s network, whilst Gem headed off towards Hound territory, her face set.

Gem hadn’t even spent five minutes past the boundary when the Hound patrols came on their junkyard motorcycles. She hadn’t been down here in weeks – she put her hands up as they circled her, tampered guns aimed at her. There was a penalty for exiles, for those who sought freedom from their family and cut off all contact. Fortunately, Gem hadn’t been gone too long, so she would only be given the perfunctory interrogation.

She was led through the shantytown, flanked by four armed cronies. The children who usually crowded around her held back at the sight of guns, blinking up at her with their toys in hand. The older members were too used to this sort of scene to do otherwise than keep at their tasks. Some of the older women spat at her feet, though. It was jealousy she saw in their eyes – it was always jealousy, when a person was brought back after a short stint of freedom. The women especially, they had suffered the hardships of having beautiful bodies in a family that saw only profit in their pale skin and rosy lips. To them, the younger generations shouldn’t be exempt.

Gem remembered being similarly riled up whenever someone left – they taught them young, to hate the mere concept of traitors, of brothers and sisters forsaking their blood ties. Somewhere deep inside her, shame throbbed horribly. She took their judgments, trying to hold her chin high.

The Guard was pacing by his desk when they brought her to him. His tamed monster was lying at the foot of the desk, tail thumping the floor rhythmically as it observed Gem with beady yellow eyes. The Guard took one look at her face and gave her a tight smile.

‘Let me guess,’ he drawled. ‘You got a taste of what it really means to live up there – in the bright lights of ShinRa’s world that you love so much – and then you came running back down here when you realized who they really are?’

She glared at the charismatic Hound leader. The man’s long black hair was held back in a tight braid, facial features encroached by a myriad of scars. It was impossible to imagine what he might’ve looked like, had his skin not been pulled in all directions by those slashes. Perhaps he saw hers as a simple initiation.

‘Don’t be afraid to admit it,’ he purred. ‘It’s a tale as old as time. That world has always been seductive to us.’

‘I’m sorry I left,’ Gem bit out. ‘I was involved in the information leak. With Genesis.’

The Hound narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for her to continue.

‘There’s a protest planned on Friday,’ Gem told him. ‘Avalanche and the Soldier deserters that Genesis has scraped together will be marching on the ShinRa tower. They’ve got Upworlders and partial army support, so now all that’s left is a representative of the slums to bolster the ranks. So I volunteered you.’

The Hound raised his eyebrows at her, skin stretching strangely upwards.

‘Don’t you think affirming something like that without even consulting me might be seen as presumptuous?’

‘You said you wanted me to keep an eye out for the slightest opportunity for you to get chummy with Avalanche,’ Gem said. ‘The opportunity presented itself. I thought you’d be pleased. Unless all the grand plans you have for us are just hot air, and all you really want is to squat down here counting our cash.’

It could go either of two ways – insulting the Guard could win her his favour or have her shot. It depended on his mood. She stood, hands behind her back, sweating horribly and trying not to show how frightened she was. The Guard observed her for a moment, staying very still. And then the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile.

‘Go on.’

 

• • •

 

Once the hunger for intrigue is satiated, there is the stress again, the part of her mind screaming at her for putting herself through this. Aeris forgets why she’s here upon entering the lavish entrance of the ShinRa HQ. Stepping across the threshold is like pushing her own heart into a blender. She can almost hear the horrendous screeching noise. She grips the arm of her client, imagines her heart turning to red soup. Smiles as she looks around at the fancy red ribbons and carpeting that leads them to the elevators.

She’s good at this, now. Throwing herself at the source of her trauma, thinking the more she looks at it, the more she feels it, the stronger she will get. She’s a professional.

The ballroom is halfway up the HQ. She almost doesn’t recognise it from what she saw of it on the TV. It’s been transformed into a glittering den of extravaganza, with hardwood floor, round tables bearing snowy tablecloths and fanned-out chocobo feathers. Along the walls are sculptures and paintings. Surely it’s to bring to mind all of the dead cultures that ShinRa killed, put on show like so many corpses in a museum. They have a small orchestra playing in a corner, the lid of the grand piano tilted up like the sail of a ship.

There are several lavish buffet tables off to the side, and that is where Aeris begins the evening. Her client talks to several well-off businessmen and their trophy wives. They make their way from ShinRa shareholders to Mako fountain owners, from jewelers to bank managers. One woman looks like she has enough diamonds around her neck to buy the entire slums.

Aeris drifts, smiling, listening. The rich guests take one look at her and immediately realise that she isn’t one of theirs. Usually it hurts, for people to look at her and think ‘whore’, sum her up as one and the same as all the other whores, as though they were one hivemind, one body spread over the city in countless little cells, like a tumour. But sometimes, the invisibility is a blessing. All she has to do is show her glossy lips, her cleavage, look up at her client with a wide smile when people ask ‘what do you do?’. He says something about her being freelance and heads turn politely, conversation is shifted away from her. The disguise was supposed to be the short pink wig and the overdone make-up – but it’s her entire person, her entire career.

Discreetly, she keeps an eye on the personalities around the room. She steers clear of the president and the members of the ShinRa board. Each time she recognizes someone, she does what she came to do – she informs Gem through discreet texts, of names or initials. Hojo isn’t here, thankfully. But there are Soldiers at every doorway, even guarding the windows to the balconies. Angeal is by the president’s side, looking important if a little preoccupied in his dark red ceremonial suit. Clearly they’re on high alert.

The reason for the heavy guard arrives a little after nine o’clock. A pair of glass double doors open wide, and an impressive cortège comes sweeping into the ballroom. Immediately the music stops, replaced by a ponderous drumming. Sephiroth is leading the way, dressed in his own ceremonial suit, hair slicked back over his head and caught in a ponytail. He’s tall and imposing even next to the richly dressed couple he’s accompanying. Seeing the traditional kimonos and headdresses, Aeris easily guesses who they are. The world feels small, claustrophobic, with so many foreign dignitaries shoved into this one room. She watches as president Shinra strides over to the royal Wutain couple, and there is a surreal moment when the president _bows,_ blazer straining over his portly belly. And the Wutain Emperor and Empress do the same, kimono sleeves sweeping the floor as they join their hands and bow in response.

Aeris understands quite suddenly why Genesis couldn’t bear to go to the victory ceremony. It’s disgusting. Two representatives of a ruined country, bowing to a man in a suit. Those who are watching clap, and several photographers – there aren’t many, surely only the ones that Shinra approved of – kneel around them to take pictures. 

Discreetly, Aeris takes out her phone and sends another message to Gem. _S and A up here._ The orchestra takes up again, violins introducing a waltz. Whilst the president leads his guests over to the VIP tables, couples begin pouring onto the dance floor. Some of them look so accomplished and physically well-built that Aeris can’t help wondering if Shinra hired professional ballroom dancers, just to set the tone of the evening. Then one by one, the older guests begin to trickling onto the hardwood.

A hand appears in front of Aeris. She looks up, sees her client grinning at her.

‘Would you care to dance?’

She’d forgotten that she’d actually be required to _dance_ at a formal ball. Cheeks burning, she shakes her head.

‘Sorry, I’m really not very good – ’

‘Not to worry. Just remember to pick up your feet, and you’ll be fine,’ her client says with a wink.

•

 

Sephiroth is used to these grand splurges of Shinra’s. He’s unfazed by the crowds of dancers – he is used to sifting through the roiling, glittering mass to remain aware of where his targets are. Thanks to the earpiece in his ear, he keeps in touch with his men posted outside too, keeps informed on the state of the exterior through Zack’s reports. Usually, it’s too much work to be able to spare a second’s concentration on the beauty of the dancers.

He is stationed by the president’s table with Angeal, eyes vaguely following the moving symmetry of the dancing crowd as one of his outdoor men gives him a report in his ear. There are a more than a few couples where the men are far older than the ladies on their arm, as to be expected of Shinra’s upper class. Even Shinra himself has a couple of sparkling twenty-somethings on his lap. In the back of his mind Sephiroth realises just how differently he looks at them. Instead of grinding his teeth and fantasizing about throwing them out, he ignores them, like he ignores the journalists or photographers. They’re just professionals who are part of the décor, using the party as sustenance rather than indulgence. It is surprisingly easy to do this. He grasps for a moment, confused, at his old anger, as though striking two rocks that have grown too blunt to spark.

There is one girl that is… difficult to ignore. She has a pink bob of hair, and the cream-gold fabric of her dress clings to her curves before drifting from her hips in long asymmetrical panels. Every time her face comes into view, she’s smiling, either keeping it contained in a pink squiggle of gloss or laughing out loud with teeth bared. Her outbursts happen when she trips or falls out of rhythm, which is often. Her partner is patient with her, teaching her the steps and taking it slow.

Sephiroth has seen that clumsiness before, the way her long legs step over each other. She wobbles as though her high heels were stilts. Zack is telling him in his ear, _we’ve got reports of activity in Sector Four, sir, the Turks are checking it out,_ but he lets himself be distracted, eyes climbing the curve of her hip, the inward slope of her waist. Her dress clings to her so intimately. It’s backless, so when she turns again he recognises that constellation of moles, finds them to be exactly where he remembers them.

It’s her. Chimera. Even with the wig and the bubblegum make-up, he would recognise that body anywhere. He watches her as he touches his earplug, listening to Zack. There are people gathering in the streets, two Sectors now, the Turks are spreading out. He tells himself that he’s only letting his eyes rest on her to alleviate the boredom of being stationary. Song after song, she begins moving more and more confidently. Her male partner is just a prop for her to spin around, and Sephiroth finds himself projecting, imagining those small hands gripping the crook of his arm, that lithe body fitting against his, that smile directed at him.

She has never smiled like that with him. Never. He takes in the angles of her mouth curiously. He isn’t _yearning –_ that isn’t what he does. He is simply observing.

Could he even make her smile? She must feel anything but at ease when they’re together. And when has it ever been important to him? When did he ever require that from her?

What _did_ he require from her?

She’s got her arms around her clients shoulders, head tilted back as she smiles, light plunging down her throat and into the valley between her breasts. He sees her arched, limbs straining, lipstick smudged over half her face like blood. He sees her fighting, breaking out of his grip, breaking out, breaking free, or rather trying but never succeeding. Perhaps all he wanted was that. To see her struggle against her oppressor, since he can’t break free from his.

No, it was never as noble as that. He wanted her to suffer. He was jealous of how easily she and women like her could dress up in different identities, switching them as easily as clothes, use them for profit, like it was the easiest thing in the world to know who they really were underneath. Of course she had been capable of shattering the identity he’d given her. She was used to it.

The shards are in his hands now, so many pieces of her, a pair of red lips, a chin, the inside of a thigh, none of which form a coherent whole, just pieces of his own backwards fantasies that he can’t put back together. He looks at her, he looks at who she is, with her smile and her clumsiness and that cheeky way she has of glancing up at her client as he pulls her closer. The shards he’s holding onto are worthless, false, plastic garbage. She shines and he wants to step across the dance floor, he wants to take her hand, he wants her to smile at him, to teach him how to break, he wants, he wants -

It’s irrelevant. These are frivolities. She’s busy, and he has more constructive things to do than interrupt her.

He touches a hand to his earpiece again as he follows the Emperor of Wutai around the room, losing Chimera from sight. Zack is telling him that there are crowds beginning to gather in Sector 6 and 7 too, asking permission to spread their perimeter to help the Turks. Sephiroth advises him on crowd control, telling him to keep it civil, arrest the violent and dissuade the rest. When he sees her again, she’s standing by the buffet tables, tantalizingly close. The situation outside is stable for now, he has time. It only takes a few steps, an indulgence, for him to be next to her and nonchalantly reaching for the wine.

 

Aeris puts the two glasses down, scanning the bottles to try and find the ones her client asked for. She’s almost drunk on the giddiness of dancing, her skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. She turns around and there’s someone next to her – someone in a red ceremonial suit. Something inside her lurches as he glances down at her.

She looks up at Sephiroth from beneath glittery fake lashes. She can’t be sure that he’s recognised her, so she smiles and goes back to her drinks.

‘You should be more careful,’ he murmurs. ‘If I can see through that dress, then Tseng probably can, too.’

Aeris feels herself flush at his wording. ‘Well I didn’t come up here with you, so he can’t say a thing,’ she mumbles back.

For a moment they say nothing, her reaching for a bottle, him taking it for her and pouring in her second glass. Though everything about him has her on alert as always, she feels like they’re back at square one, hovering next to each other and not knowing what to say to one another. Like at that party, eons ago, where she saw him for the first time. All he had to say then was how she’d get trampled if she didn’t put on the right kind of shoes.

She wonders why he’s here. Why he’s taking the time to pour her a glass, when he’s all done up in his ceremonial garb and general importance. She tries to remember if he’s ever serviced her like this before as he slides the full glass over to her.

'What are you doing up here?'

‘At the moment, trying to stop the world from spinning,’ she says as she takes the glass. 'What about you? I didn’t see you on the dance floor.'

‘I’m not here for pleasure.’

'Well, that makes two of us then.’

Sephiroth turns around to lean against the buffet, staring at the dancing crowd with a drink in his hand like he isn’t paying attention to her. ‘Yes,’ he mutters. ‘It certainly looks like quite the chore, having to dance for one hour straight.’

‘It is when you don’t know how to dance,’ Aeris huffs.

‘You know you can dance perfectly well,’ he says. Then he sips from his glass. ‘Just not ballroom.’

The reference brings back images of that night at the cabaret, how his eyes had been glued to her every movement as she danced for him, straddled him, ground against his erection. How he’d tilted his head back, hands digging into her hips as his cock pressed into her mound.

Valiantly, she tries to ignore the memory. ‘They must be paranoid if they need you to be on duty all night,’ she says.

‘They’ve been on high alert ever since the information leak. And you can’t really blame them, seeing the current state of the city.’

‘Well, that’s what I mean. Seems a bit silly to gather all of Shinra’s allies in one place if they’re afraid of some kind of attack.’

Here he turns to glance at her again, as though surprised. ‘This gathering is strategic. To show the opposition that our international relations are what they are thanks to ShinRa. In a time like this, it’s important for them to show how indispensable they are to the running of global affairs.’

Aeris only raises her eyebrows. ‘Still. One well-placed summon and all those international relations are toast.’

Gaia, she’s gabbling. Something about him being so close to Genesis makes it easy to talk to him like this, as though he were in on the protest. She needs to shut her mouth before she gives it all away. He only seems amused as he turns his shoulders towards her. ‘Is there something I should know, Chimera? Have you smuggled in more illicit materia?’

‘No, of course not,’ Aeris stammers. ‘I mean, the opposition needs all these relations, too, so an attack wouldn’t exactly be productive. And I don’t have any materia on me today, so don't worry. I’m harmless.’

Sephiroth’s been looking down at her for too long. Someone’s going to notice. She turns away.

‘Sephiroth,’ she mumbles, and he breaks off, as though he hadn’t realised. They linger, Aeris not quite knowing why she’s still standing there next to him, letting him into her personal space. There’s something irrationally exciting about his presence there, the tenseness it provokes. Old habits. She’s still expecting their encounter to devolve into something primal, leaving her breathless and clawing at salvation. Her body sings with the expectancy, her back muscles wound tight as piano strings. 

‘Where did you wear it, that night?’ Sephiroth asks, his voice low. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t notice anything.’

Aeris breathes out. ‘You shouldn’t ask a lady these things,’ she says. 

It takes a lot of willpower to unglue herself from him, throwing him one last glance as she walks away. He only looks back at her with the lightest of smirks.

 

• • •

 

It was historic. Never in all of Midgar’s past had there been such a gathering in her streets – past riots had always been slum-born, rising against the skin of the plate without ever breaking through. Pamphlets had been distributed city-wide to let people know of what was happening days in advance, but they had never expected so many to join the protest march. Civilians poured from their homes to join the militant crowds, choking the train stations. Families of the many victims of Mako intoxication were shouting for their sons’ and daughters’ lives, workers were shouting for the right of free enterprise, criticizing the crushing predominance of Mako that had eradicated so many of their industries, veterans of the Wutai war finally free to express their voices… it was the utopic gathering of like-minded souls that every nonconformist had always dreamed of, and it was happening _now_. They were all united under the flag of Genesis’s anti-Soldier protest, but they all had their own private protestations to add to the general plea for ShinRa to step down.

They invaded every street and marked their passage with graffiti, overturned trash and broken glass. The usually impeccably kept streets were soiled with the multicoloured words of those who’d kept their mouth shut for far too long. The goal was to speak, to have their voices heard – they held panels up, chanting in unison, though they still had weapons slung to their backs in anticipation of what was to come. None were afraid while their voices were united, while they held the stage for once.

Elfé had organised the routes. The best of them had split up to lead the way so that they marched on the ShinRa HQ from all directions, the rogue Soldiers staying ahead to protect the civilians from Peacekeepers. Genesis had donned his red leathers and was marching ahead with sword in hand, his blood singing at the sound of all the chanting at his back. It was no small comfort to have found a tribe after he thought he'd lost his, and to know that they had been there all along – they had only needed to be told that they _could_ , they _could_ be heard, and that they would be well protected against the backlash.

When they came up to their first blockade of shields, he looked at their familiar uniforms. Breathed out slowly through his nose. Then he brought his rusty old walkie-talkie up to his mouth and clicked his channel open.

‘Phoenix here, Sector 3, Junon Boulevard. What’s your status? Over.’ 

Those who had the apparatus – Elfé and her leaders, his best Seconds, Hegemony, Snow, and the Hound Guard – all informed him of where they were at. Most were still free, simply being monitored by strings of Peacekeepers and the sweeping helicopter lights of the Turks. Snow was staying back at the Blue Dragon, but she had her own role to play.

‘I think the weather’s looking a bit too clement,’ Genesis said. ‘The Turks are looking far too comfortable up there. Over.’

‘I hear you. It’s building. Give it time. Over,’ Snow said.

‘What about you?’ Gem asked him, her voice crackling with the static.

‘First shield wall,’ he said. ‘Looks like it’s time to dance.’

• • •

 

Aeris stands by her client, watching the dancers as he talks about estates and investments. She drinks, perhaps a little too much, to ease the boredom and the stress of their incomprehensible conversations. When they swerve to more social topics, they use outdated terms, hateful ones too, and it’s exhausting to keep up the cheer.

Sephiroth is often by Shinra’s side, staying close to the windows so that he can stare out at the city as though looking for something. When he finally comes back around to her side of the room, the lady covered in diamonds approaches him, asks him a question about the materia on his wrist. Apparently her husband has shares in one of ShinRa’s state-of-the-art materia production plants as well as his own diamond extraction industry. Sephiroth is just a table away from Aeris, politely greeting the lady’s husband as he gets dragged over. Aeris listens, trying not to stare as she hears them talk about fine materia crafting. Apparently Sephiroth tests their materia for them, though he doesn’t use it himself. They talk about materia proficiency in test phases, and then ask him teasingly about why his bracers only have one or two of their product.

‘It’s difficult to explain,’ Sephiroth says. ‘There is a feeling, almost like the magic is trapped or contained, when using manufactured materia. Yours might be fine-tuned to near perfection in terms of efficiency, but no manufactured materia will ever feel like raw Mako crystals.’

The lady with the diamonds extends a hand. ‘May I?’

Sephiroth looks at her. ‘Oh? You’re a natural wielder?’

‘It’s one of the reasons why she pushed me to get involved in the first place,’ her husband guffaws. The lady seems strained next to him, her bird-like neck bristling with tendons. Looking reluctant, Sephiroth pops out one of his blue materia orbs and hands it to her. Aeris watches enviously as the woman clearly taps into the materia’s magic.

‘Ah, I see what you mean,’ she says. Then her husband takes it, rolling it in his fingers like a vulgar pebble. He looks around at his fellows, eyebrows raised, like they’re enjoying the joke of a woman being proficient with materia.

‘Don’t know where she gets it from,’ he chortles. ‘The in-laws are about as magically proficient as my left shoe.’

That earns him a couple of laughs. Sephiroth reaches out to take his materia back, his politeness visibly stretched thin. By then the conversational circle has spread out, and Aeris and her client find themselves included in it.

‘Magical affinity is mostly hereditary, but it can obviously skip a generation,’ Sephiroth explains to the man. ‘If you know where your in-laws are from, then that will tell you what type of magic your wife inherited. Northerners will favour elementals and Supports, Wutains will have a knack for Commands and Water, Central folk will favour time distortions and Earth, and so on. These are broad categories, of course – not everyone fits their ancestral tendencies.’

‘Well, I think I know a thing or two about my in-law’s ancestral tendencies,’ the man says, clearly only there to play the clown at his wife’s expense, which seems to be whittling away Sephiroth’s patience. Aeris is listening carefully. She’s never heard any of this. She stares at Sephiroth perhaps a little too openly as she fiddles with her umpteenth glass of Bailey’s.

‘Do you know where your magic comes from?’ the lady asks Sephiroth, as though to thank him for sticking it to her husband. But the question doesn’t seem well chosen. Sephiroth smiles the smallest, most strained smile that Aeris has yet seen. 

‘I’m afraid my own family tree wouldn’t be as interesting to study as yours,’ he tells her. ‘I’m a ward of the state.’

The words hit Aeris squarely in the chest. The great General is an orphan. All that wondering about what kind of mother a man like him might have – only to find out that he has none. She doesn’t know what to do with the throb of empathy in her chest as she looks at him. She wonders if he at least had adoptive parents, like she does. To be given a window into his childhood like this makes her feel like a voyeur – she speaks up quickly, just so that she might stop imagining him as the same lonely, angry child that she had been.

‘What about curative magic? Where does that come from?’

Sephiroth and the lady look over at her. By now the husband and his guffawing friends have formed their own circle, so their conversation is restrained to an intimate few.

‘I’ve heard that Central folk are good with that,’ Sephiroth says. ‘Especially around the Cosmo Canyon area, and anyone living close to the Ancient Forest.’

He seems curious at how interested she is in the topic. Not only does she have no idea where her mother came from before escaping North with her father, but she had never even entertained the possibility that her ancestral roots might not be from the North at all. There’s a strange tug of longing in her chest, a refusal to believe that her ideas about her own identity might’ve been wrong all this while.

‘Are Northerners good with curative magic, too?’ she asks.

‘Some are. Though like I said, it’s more common to find Northerners who are gifted with elemental magic.’

‘What magic do you favour?’

 ‘I’m not sure,’ he says. ‘I’ve always had a fondness for elementals, too. But overall, no particular affinity for one type over another. Soldiers are trained to be efficient at everything.’

Having his eyes on her gives her the impression of being in a bubble. Neither of them realise when the lady turns away to respond to one of her husband’s friends, leaving them locked into the discussion alone.

‘You really don’t feel that affinity with anything at all?’ she asks.

Sephiroth lets his fingers play over the rim of his stemware. ‘Come to think of it, there was a time when I was younger – I could always cast Fire far more efficiently than anything else. It came as naturally as breathing, even when I had a full set of materia on me. Like a knee-jerk reflex.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Aeris says. ‘I feel naked when I go out without a Fire on me.’

He decidedly doesn’t look up at her, then. She figures out too late that she made an accidental allusion to their very first booking. But the moment doesn’t last long enough to do any more damage than a cold flash – someone says Genesis’s name, and both of them turn their heads.

It’s the clown husband. His cheeks are red as he drawls, ‘It kills me. That little faggot had access to millions’ worth of our materia. He’s out there now, handing it out like fucking candy. Using it against us! When we catch the bastard, I’m fully expecting him to pay me back.’

Aeris expects the man to be sliced thin as parma ham in the next second with the way Sephiroth is staring at him. His face is set like a block of ice, slippery smooth, expression cold as death. But like ice, he stays immobile. Doesn’t even say a word as the men go on insulting Genesis. Drunk and angry, Aeris steps towards them.

‘Is that all you care about?’ she snaps. ‘That man is out there fighting for open access to knowledge. Next to him, you’re all so small with your money and your assets.’

The suits all turn their faces towards her. Aeris’s client does the same, eyes widening. Sephiroth reaches out and lays a hand on her forearm.

‘Did you bring a freedom fighter with you tonight then, Jack?’ the clown asks her client, and the men all laugh. Somewhere in the crowd Aeris hears one of the men lament how ‘the opposition has stolen all the best-looking girls’.

‘It’s why he likes them young,’ says another. ‘Naïve enough to appreciate his conversation.’ Cue guffawing laughter again, her client chortling along with them quite happily.  

‘For Gaia’s sake – ’

‘You’ve got to excuse my little Sky, here,’ her client interrupts her, looping an arm around her waist. ‘She’s an idealist.’

‘No, get _off_ ,’ Aeris spits at him, wrenching away. She manages not to stumble even with the alcohol in her system. Never mind that he paid five grand to have her up here – she wants to claw his face off. ‘You’re the one who mass-produces your so-called state-of-the-art materia and act all surprised that it might be used against you. So who’s the naïve one here?’

Sephiroth has a firm grip of her forearm just as the men begin to lose their humour.

‘Come with me,’ he growls, and she turns her head just long enough to see her client raise his voice over protestations. He manages to have them laughing again as Sephiroth drags her through a set of double doors, and she wants to do something violent, smash champagne bottles at their feet, set fire to the fancy buffet.

He brings her a little way down the unlit corridor until she wrenches out of his grip.

‘You can’t talk like that in there,’ he warns her.

‘You don’t understand. I’ve had to listen to that _all night – ’_

‘I’ve had to listen to that all my life,’ Sephiroth says, looming over her in the dark. ‘Trust me, as foul as they are, I know people like them. Most of the time it’s entirely futile to try and persuade them of anything. They’re too set in their ways.’

‘So you just keep quiet? You just stand there while they spit all over Genesis– ’

‘I have to,’ Sephiroth urges her. ‘And so do you. This is not the time or place for constructive conversation.’

‘Oh yeah? Who decided that?’

‘The president did, when he stationed guards at every door.’ Sephiroth presses his point by giving her a crushing look. ‘I know you’re entirely capable of holding your own in some situations, Chimera, but this is beyond your capabilities. Don’t put your neck on the line for nothing.’

Aeris glares at him. ‘It’s not for nothing.’

Something in his expression softens as she defends their mutual friend. ‘Those men’s opinions would mean nothing to Genesis,’ Sephiroth assures her. ‘They are nothing more than sentient bags of money, he knows that just as well as we do. So calm down. Blank them out for your own good.’

A small red light beeps by his ear, and he excuses himself, his hand rising to touch it as he turns away. Aeris can’t unclench her fists. She sees a glass door that seems to lead out to a small, secluded balcony. She can’t face either staying by Sephiroth’s side or going back to that senseless carnival, so she heads straight for it and walks out into the crisp night air.

The main plaza is directly beneath her, all the way down at the foot of the HQ. Cold wind rushes up to meet her when she leans over the edge of the balustrade. Blue Peacekeepers as small as pinheads are scattered at each street corner of the plaza. Her heart pounding, she images Hegemony somewhere out in the glittering lights of the city, brewing up hell with her Hound fellows. She wonders if the protest will really be as peaceful as Gem wants.

The door behind her opens and shuts. Sephiroth comes up beside her, sliding his hand on the slippery metal balustrade as he looks down below. He’s still talking to his earpiece, speaking in numbers and coordinates. As she looks out into the night, Aeris realises that there are… particles in the air, drifting like ash. They float towards her like so many faeries, slow and graceful. She puts up her hand and several of them settle over her fingers, stinging her slightly with cold.

It’s snowing. Aeris blinks down at the city – skyscrapers and entire blocks seem to be swallowed in darkness, as though clouds were settling low over Midgar. The snow seems to be getting denser by the second.

‘Permission granted. You know the drill, no women, no minors. Don’t let them through the perimetre. And where the hell are the Turks?’

Aeris watches as Sephiroth frowns down at the city.

‘Well then find the person responsible for the blizzard, and take them in,’ Sephiroth snaps. He seems agitated, as though unable to bear being cooped up in the HQ instead of down there helping his fellows.

‘What’s going on?’ Aeris asks him.

‘Mass protest,’ Sephiroth says. ‘Too many people for us to contain. And with this enchantment, whatever the hell it is – ’ He gestures at the sky. ‘ – we can’t observe or intervene from the air.’

Aeris nods. ‘I heard that people were planning to do something in protest of this ball,’ she says carefully. ‘I just didn’t realise it’d be this serious.’

Sephiroth glances at her. ‘We’re in control, don’t get me wrong. We had anticipated something like this too. It’s just difficult when half the city seems to be marching. ’

Aeris wraps her bare arms around herself as the snow falls thicker around them. She’s hardly aware of the cold, her gaze fixed down below to try and catch a glimpse of something.

'You should go back inside,' he says. 'You're hardly wearing anything.'

'I'm fine,' she says.

A few seconds go by before Sephiroth gives an impatient _tch,_ and something warm and heavy envelops her shoulders like a cape. She tenses at the contact, but it’s such a relief from the cold that she can’t help relaxing into the heavy perfumed fabric. It’s his ceremonial blazer. Crisis, he's bent on being the gentleman tonight. Aeris doesn't quite trust it. Mumbling a thanks, she pulls it closer, trying to ignore what that scent is doing to her body.

‘Do you think he’s down there with them?’ she asks at length.

‘It’s very probable,’ Sephiroth says. ‘He knows how to rally crowds to him.’

Aeris glances at his sharp, elegant profile.

‘Don’t you believe him? About the origin of Soldier?’

‘There isn’t enough evidence.’

He says it too fast, like he’s rehearsed it countless times. Aeris wonders if Genesis ever got the chance to try and talk Sephiroth into it.

‘What more do you need? It’s all there.’

‘One man’s experiments. One man’s word. It barely even counts as anecdotal evidence.’

They breathe in the cold air for a moment, Aeris wondering at the depths of his denial. Then he speaks up again, his voice low, almost hesitant.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. That night at the cabaret, when I blacked out. What… happened, exactly? After you cast the Entice spell?’

She frowns as the grotesque images he'd pressed into her mind come back to her. And then it all clicks into place. That's why he had been like that. Because of what was in his veins. The Calamity.  _She can look like us, talk like us..._ it had been her presence inside of him, speaking. Two thousand years old and still alive enough to form words. The idea sends a shiver through Aeris's body. It must be a testament to just how hard he's been thinking about it, if he's linked the  news to his unconscious spell, too. Silently, she calculates how much to give away, staring hard at the city ahead instead of looking at him.

‘When you reached the stage of actual unconsciousness… you started speaking an ancient language.’

He glances at her. ‘What do you mean, an ancient language? How could you tell?’

‘I don’t know,’ Aeris stammers. ‘It was like you were possessed. You wouldn’t respond to me when I tried to snap you out of it. Then I cured you and you blacked out. Do you still not remember any of it?’

‘There are bits and pieces coming back,’ Sephiroth says. ‘I remember feeling strange when I was in the labs, afterwards. I’ve never felt that way before. I think I was severely hallucinating.’

Trying not to let her curiosity show too much, Aeris asks, ‘What did you hallucinate?’

Sephiroth’s lips curl in an auto-derisive smile. ‘Wings,’ he says.

There are lights beginning to twinkle in the street junctions way down below. Moving lights. So many and too slow to be cars. They seem to be what Sephiroth is looking at. Aeris’s heart starts galloping as she realises _how many people_ are out there. It’s like molten gold steadily trickling down the gridded blocks. Sephiroth touches a hand to his earpiece again.

‘What happened, Zack? What did I tell you about containing them?’ he says. He waits for a moment as a reply is given. ‘Crisis. Alright. I’m coming down.’

He turns around, placing a hand on Aeris’s shoulder to coax her away from the edge.

‘Get back inside.’

 

•

 

The adrenaline coursed through the protestors’ veins as they approached Midgar’s main plaza. There was a glittering blue wall of Soldiers and Peacekeepers blocking every access to it, helmets and weapons reflecting the protestor’s torchlights as they stood their ground. Hegemony and her Guard were on opposite sides of the plaza – both had been joined by Avalanche’s crowds, so their numbers seemed overbearing compared to ShinRa’s police.

Flanked by civilians, shaved Hounds and Avalanche members with scarves over their mouths, Hegemony reached to take the rifle from her back, cracking it in two to double-check that it was loaded. She was near the front lines with the other leaders, so she raised her hand along with the rest, shouting a warning to the ones behind – there was a surge of excitement in the crowd as they finally met real resistance. There had been skirmishes, patrolling Peacekeepers getting into brawls, and some protestors had been shot down or sniped – mainly photographers and those who stood on the sidelines to report on the protest, so the blood was singing in all of their veins as they ached to sink their teeth into a proper crowd of blues.

The protestors came to a halt when only a strip of tarmac separated them from ShinRa’s men, all of them shouting too loud for much to be heard. A convoy of Soldiers came forwards slowly, guns in hand as a warning, and the crowd’s voices diminished to a few collective chants. There were shouted chants – _No more Shinra Corp!_ , _The war for Mako is a war on us! –_ punctuated by fists thrown in the air, guns and panels brandished as the plea remained pacifist.

‘It is unauthorized by Midgarian law, to publicly form groups outside of official occasions,’ the Soldiers called on megaphones. ‘It is unauthorized to occupy the streets of the city without official consent. It is unauthorized – ”

The speaking Soldier was assaulted by a battery of eggs, the yolks running down his uniform, and there was a gleeful cry among the crowd as they allowed themselves a few steps forwards.

‘Is it unauthorized for you to talk without Shinra’s fist up your arse?’ a student yelled, and several Hounds took up shouting similar slurs.

 ‘You’re being manipulated!’ one of the Soldier deserters shouted. ‘All of you! Why don’t you realize that? This is your fight, too!’

Several shots were fired into the air as the Soldiers tried to calm the crowd.

‘Go home,’ they called. ‘Violence will not be tolerated. All contraveners will be arrested, and all violent behaviour will be responded to in kind.’

‘Are you going to shoot us for a couple of egg yolks?’ Hegemony yelled, and there was a rising shout of agreement.

‘This affects all of us,’ a scarf-clad student called. ‘And all of you too. Haven’t you ever considered how life could express itself outside the circle of ShinRa’s authority?’

A group of protestors were getting a little too close to the Soldiers – Hegemony tried to grab at those who were following their lead, warning them not to take any risks, but a fight was inevitable with the state of inebriation that so much adrenaline was putting the rioters in. There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then two of them were on the ground, Soldiers hitting them with the butts of their guns, and there was no stopping the endless vengeance-taking from that point on. Civilians threw themselves forwards to defend their fellows, and the Soldiers only doubled their attacks, taking people down, sending weak Bolt spells as dissuasion.

‘We will shoot!’ they shouted. ‘Stand down! We _will shoot!_ ’

Hegemony yelled at her collaborators to back off, to try and negotiate, but it was too late for that. The smell of sweat and fear was making her feel sick – she urged everyone who could to refresh their Barrier spells, slipping on her own protective ring that she’d stolen. When the gunshots began in earnest she stood her ground along with the other armed leaders as the crowd surged back.

Being part of an entity made everyone believe they were invincible, so naturally they didn’t listen to the Soldiers’ warnings – there was an accusatory cry as they ran from the Soldiers’ bullets. Those who knew how to use materia with bypass devices stayed to guard the crowd’s retreat, throwing tear gas and Molotov cocktails at the advancing Soldiers, and pretty soon the air was thick with the acrid smell of carbon as spells and bullets sparked in every direction.

People were pushing cars and crates into the street as protective walls, using everything they could find to build a defense, and Hegemony could only wonder what had happened on Elfé and Genesis’s side as she slid her empty rifle back on her back and ran towards the plaza, ducking and dodging the bullets of the advancing troops. It could only be more of the same, seeing ShinRa’s politic of _shoot first and ask questions later_ – she crouched behind a tumble of bricks from a shop’s façade, panting as she looked around herself at the slowly deteriorating plaza. Explosions were erupting, both from the protestor’s home-made bombs and the Soldiers’ Fire spells, and glass shattered as the buildings around them took the blow of stray attacks.

 _This wasn’t the point,_ she thought to herself desperately, _this wasn’t what was supposed to happen –_ but she had anticipated this outcome, too, they had all anticipated it. They’d only wanted to believe that it was possible to show the world leaders that they had the support of the city, that they could ditch ShinRa, even as impossible as it might seem – but perhaps even that had been far too optimistic.

A Peacekeeper came into view as she let her eyes wander over the devastated plaza, holding a bloodied woman by the hair, and Gem surged forwards, gritting her teeth as she put her hands up.

The man immediately pointed his gun at her, lowering his chin in a warning.

‘Let her go,’ Gem said, her voice trembling. ‘We just want the right to be heard. We don’t want to fight.’

‘You got a whole lot of guns for people who don’t want to fight,’ the Peacekeeper replied.

‘We have to defend ourselves, don’t we? Look what we’re up against!’

‘We have to defend ourselves, too,’ he replied. ‘We warned you of what would happen if you attacked us. Casualties are on your hands.’

‘We didn’t attack you,’ the woman piped up. ‘You attacked us!’

Gem sighed, wishing that people could try to think a little harder in situations of blind violence. ‘At least let us occupy the plaza peacefully, get our points across before this all goes to shit. That’s all we wanted. To be heard by the crowd up there.’ She nodded at the glittering glass walls of the ShinRa HQ.

The Peacekeeper considered her for a second. ‘You’re one of the leaders, aren’t you?’

There were more Peacekeepers coming closer, and Gem saw that a green glow was enveloping his hand – he was preparing another Bolt spell, surely to incapacitate her. She stepped back apprehensively, hands nearing her guns – and then there was movement ahead near the entrance of the HQ, across the plaza. There was too much fighting and smoke and magic to see clearly, but she still saw him. A long banner of silver hair, caught in the cold winds as Sephiroth stepped out onto the battleground.

Her heart plummeted. Aeris must’ve sent her a message of warning, but she’d been too busy to see. If Sephiroth was joining the melee, this would quickly turn to suicide. Genesis was the only one among them who could take him, so it was imperative to get out of there until she could tell Genesis to draw Sephiroth’s attention.

‘I’m going to have to arrest you, ma’am,’ the Peacekeeper was saying. ‘You can get your points across once you come with me – ’

The woman had seen Sephiroth too. She pushed away from the Peacekeeper, grabbed Hegemony, and both girls ducked under his Bolt spell as they ran, Hegemony shooting blindly behind her as the Peacekeepers bore down on them.

‘Run! _’_ she shouted at all those she crossed. ‘Back to the street! _Come on!’_

•

 

Up in the ballroom, the music has stopped. Aeris comes back from the balcony to find crowds talking urgently among themselves, and all of the foreign dignitaries themselves standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows. President Shinra and his straw-puppet mayor are urging people away, smiling big fake smiles as they try to reason with their guests. Guards are escorting men and their glittery wives out – but others simply will not be persuaded. Aeris scans the crowd to try and find Angeal, and when she finds him he isn’t even helping with the evacuation effort. He's standing by the window too, his face indecipherable as he watches what's happening below.

Carefully, Aeris approaches the windows. No one notices her, so it's easy to slot herself in between the Wutain empress and a tall man all in white. Looking down, she sees the crowds blocking up the streets that leads to the plaza – they are indistinct masses, though the panels they hold are legible from up here. Her eyes bounce from message to message. _We stand with Wutai! Down with ShinRa’s consumerist dictatorship! Our bodies – our rights! We are human beings, not your consumer base! Give us back our nations! Give us back our leaders! SAY NO TO SHINRA’S TYRANNY! MIDGAR STANDS WITH YOU!_

Aeris’s mouth goes dry. She looks up, sees the Wutain empress’s smooth face, how drawn and pained it seems. Backing away from the window, Aeris glances down the crowd of people, trying to see what the general consensus is. They're so silent. Some are murmuring to one another, others simply watching, their expressions ranging from confused to almost wistful.

‘Please, it’s not safe,’ President Shinra drawls as he comes to the Wutain empress. ‘Let us escort you to the lower floors until the sky clears, those have armored windows, they’ll be much safer – ’

She stares him down.

‘Your people are speaking,’ she says coldly. ‘I believe they have the right to an audience.’

The more Aeris listens, the more it becomes apparent that these people aren’t afraid. That they're standing there out of pride, out of solidarity, relishing the fact that they have allies even in the heart of the world’s capital. And that clearly ShinRa’s control is breaking apart if this sort of riot can happen in its own prized city. Hands shaking, Aeris takes out her phone and texts Hegemony.

_Everyone’s watching! It’s working!_

 

•

 

Genesis is there, in the middle of the chaos. Walking towards Sephiroth with his sword at his side, tip hanging near the ground. Sephiroth’s heart has never raced this fast as he thinks of what awaits his friend if the ShinRa troops catch him. If _he_ – ShinRa’s General – does his duty.

Most of the streetlights surrounding the plaza are flickering or have been blown out by magic. Shafts of light stabbing down at the plaza from the HQ break over their silhouettes. Thankfully most of the rioters have noticed who has just stepped onto the scene, and aren’t suicidal enough to stick around – they retreat to the streets, leaving only the most foolhardy and dedicated. Perhaps some of these Soldier deserters think that this is the only chance they’ll get to be a hero – to strike down Sephiroth and single-handedly bring down ShinRa’s most powerful weapon. They flank Genesis, swords and guns in hand.

Genesis has his free hand out, magic shivering around him as he invokes a Wall spell. An insubstantial blue peel of magic falls over him and his men, draping over their bodies. Sephiroth raises his eyebrows. Had it been him, he would’ve told those Soldiers to run.

‘You really want to do this?’ he calls over to Genesis.

‘I made my choice. You made yours,’ Genesis calls back, his voice sounding hoarse from shouting. ‘There’s nothing left to say.’

It seems like a distant dream, the feeling of Genesis’s arms locked around his shoulders, that mouth against his ear. It had been a fight then, too, and Genesis had surrendered to him if only for a brief lapse of time. Now that elegant face is set, drawn with fatigue, wearing the stony expression of one who is doing his duty. Sephiroth closes his eyes. Perhaps it’s time he did his. Perhaps fighting – realising what it really means to go up against his best friend – might be the only way to still get through to Genesis. It has to be possible.

Sephiroth taps into his materia with one hand, the other coming out as he summons Masamune. The naked blade shimmers into being, hilt materializing in his palm as the metal sings to life. He sees Genesis’s gaze flicker down to the blade, like its appearance might’ve cemented this impossible reality where they stand on opposite sides.

The Demi spell that Sephiroth summons stretches and warps the space in which the deserters stand. It sucks at their life force, distorting them. They seem to be sucked upwards towards some nondescript point above them. Genesis stands tall, immune to such dark magic, and he lowers his chin angrily as his men start falling to their knees, clutching their heads. Sephiroth matches his gaze in a mute challenge.

Genesis steps forwards alone. After two steps, he starts running, holding his sword by his shoulder in a roof guard, a growl rising in his throat. Sephiroth’s breath escapes him as he raises his blade.

Genesis slashes downwards, and sparks fly from the contact. Genesis is up close, sliding his blade along Sephiroth’s forcefully until he’s close enough to hook an elbow over Sephiroth’s arm. There’s the warmth of his arm against Sephiroth’s, the fleeting caress of his breath against Sephiroth’s mouth. The rogue tries to push down so he can jab his hilt in Sephiroth’s face – but Sephiroth jerks a shoulder, throws him off. Genesis staggers away and Sephiroth whacks him across the face, forcing him to back away from him some more.

‘Always so predictable,’ Sephiroth baritones, Masamune trailing behind him in a tail guard. Genesis glares at him, but Sephiroth sends a series of unfocused slashes his way, forcing him to waste energy with repetitive parries. He’s in worse shape than Sephiroth remembers, slow in defense, sword held just high enough for protection, as if it’s too heavy for him.

Genesis lets out another feral growl, throwing all his weight into his parry so he can brush Sephiroth off and regain the upper hand. He jabs at his opponent, sword point flying straight for Sephiroth’s heart – and Sephiroth is forced to step back, throwing the blade off-mark with a flick of Masamune.

‘You’re not even trying!’ Genesis shouts. He starts stepping to the side, waiting for an opening. Sephiroth follows him around the circle they’re tracing, prowling around one another. By now the plaza is almost empty, the Peacekeepers holding back the rioters in the streets, protecting them from the utter chaos that Sephiroth and Genesis are capable of causing.

‘You think I want to do this?’ Sephiroth calls over.

Genesis holds his blade at hip height, tip pointed down to the ground. The fool’s guard, meant to destabilize the opponent by showing weakness.

‘I don’t know what you want, Sephiroth,’ Genesis calls back. ‘And I’m tired of wasting time thinking I can have any influence on you at all.’

Sephiroth lifts his chin, the Masamune still trailing behind him as he remains passive.

‘You can still lay down arms,’ Sephiroth says. Genesis just scoffs.

‘And join you and your merry band of cowards?’

The provocation is blatant and Sephiroth should know better than to let the words hook into his chest as though through butter. It’s one too many. He breathes out sharply, fingers tightening on Masamune’s hilt.

‘Soldier First Class, Genesis Rhapsodos,’ he commands, one last time. He sees a ghostly tension pass over Genesis’s shoulders, as though he’s fighting back the reflex. ‘I order you to stop this. Come back into the fold. There’s still a place for you here.’ He knows it’s futile – the simple knowledge that there’s nothing he can possibly do is making him hate the man facing him.

Genesis only glares at his best friend with reddened eyes. ‘For the love of the Goddess, stop trying to save me,’ he bites out.

He strides forwards, blade flying up in an undercut, and he has Sephiroth backing away several paces as he parries. The viciousness of the attacks, the way Genesis throws his whole weight into them relentlessly – it’s difficult to keep his blood from boiling, the adrenaline in his veins from making him hit back hard. And once Genesis has forced him to back up almost to the entrance of the HQ, he can’t hold back any more. Enough is enough.

He sends Genesis back with a resounding slash, tracing an insubstantial line in the air that slices through anything it touches. Streetlights are cut in two, metal rods keeling to the ground with a crash. Sephiroth casts Float on himself, and launches up into the air, swiping Masamune after him. Genesis manages to dodge it at the last minute, panting as he casts Float on himself too. And then he kicks off from the ground – and they’re flying, colliding in the air in a ringing mess of sparks, their magic sending gusts through the falling snow. They’re running along the façade of the environing buildings as they slash at one another, exploding windows with Firaga spells, breaking apart entire tiled roofs with the force of their blows.

The rioters are chanting, some of them getting riled up again and fighting back against the Peacekeepers. There is the staccato of gunfire in the air again, bright elemental magic spilling from every corner. Black vans have parked in the plaza, the Turks spreading out over the perimeter.

Up till then, Zack had been tasked with holding back his portion of dissenters. But the sight of Genesis holding his own against Sephiroth, defending himself valiantly, has him grinding his teeth. He hasn’t stopped thinking about all the conversations he would’ve wanted to have with him, verbal or otherwise, about what he learned. About how Genesis had manipulated his childhood friend. Threw her into danger for no other reason than his own sick enjoyment. They come closer, tracing their path of destruction towards where he’s holding back his slew of civilians, and Sephiroth manages to send Genesis flying with a ringing blow. Genesis falls heavily onto the paving stones of the plaza, skidding across several metres before managing to roll over and heave himself up again, spitting blood. He’s so close. Zack can’t hold back any more. 

Face contorted with pure fury, Zack draws his sword and runs to him. Genesis has the reflex to look up, parrying last-minute as Zack swings down at him.

‘Zack, fall back _now,_ ’ Sephiroth calls from a few metres away. But Zack is locked in a hateful grind of metal, eyes bearing into Genesis’s.

‘This is for Aeris,’ he snarls.

Sephiroth is close enough to hear, and that name jars him out of the moment. He’s heard it before, somewhere – but he can’t linger. Zack is throwing himself at Genesis with all the abandon of a man who’s out for blood. Sephiroth has never seen him like this, hunched, eyes blazing. His expression is so chilling that Sephiroth almost doesn’t recognize him.

Genesis’s face visibly falls. Surely he knows he can’t take them both on at the same time, not in his state. Sephiroth has a bewildering urge to fight Zack off, but they’re locked into the prowl now, each surveilling the two other’s movements, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Genesis is the one to attack first.

Sephiroth doesn’t even hear himself yelling Zack’s name, begging him to stay out of this, but Zack has already taken the appropriate measures – he Walls up, ploughs through Genesis’s attack, and all hell breaks loose as they charge across the plaza.

 ‘ _Stop!’_ Sephiroth shouts, ‘ _Zack, I command you to stop!’_

There is rubble flying, magic sparking, people at every street corner cowering and protecting their heads. Peacekeepers have their guns cocked at the fighting pair, too uncertain to shoot. Zack is making a valiant effort of trying to keep up but Sephiroth can clearly see that he’s too slow, his reflexes aren’t sharp enough to counter Genesis’ frankly vicious sparring techniques, even in his weakened state. Then the red-clad wraith leaps, holding his sword up in preparation for a devastating blow. And the General knows what he has to do, only, he can’t do it – he can’t move, can’t think. Zack is behaving far too recklessly and if he steps in, the backlash could be fatal to either of them. There’s a choice to make, and he’s got milliseconds to make it.

For a moment he even tells himself that perhaps Zack has got this covered, perhaps he won’t have to intervene – but then there’s the grinding screech of steel against steel as Genesis bears down on him, sparks spitting from the blades’ contact. Zack is growling with the weight of the other man’s blow. There’s that wild bloodlust shining in Genesis’s eyes as he overcomes Zack easily. One slip-up and that blade will sink into Zack’s throat.

Quick as a snake, Sephiroth strides forwards and swipes Masamune up hard between both men, knocking the sword clean out of the Genesis’s hands.

It happens too fast. Genesis, destabilized, falls against Sephiroth. He only has the time hoist himself up, holding onto Sephiroth’s arms. And then there is movement. The glint of a sword, and the wet crunch of metal entering flesh.

Zack has pierced Genesis through the heart.

Sephiroth’s sword clatters to the ground as he grasps his friend’s forearms. He can’t process what has just happened. The redhead draws a ragged gasp as Zack eases his sword out again. He’s frowning at Sephiroth, confused, betrayed – blood is dripping from his mouth in long, oily strings as he fights to breathe. Then his legs buckle and Sephiroth mindlessly follows Genesis’s movement as he crashes to his knees.

‘No,’ the General says, his voice hoarse. ‘No, no, no – ’

Sephiroth prepares a Curaga, but it barely has the time to do more than lick at Genesis’s wound  – the Turks take him, wrench him away, and Sephiroth mindlessly holds on, hands slipping until he’s holding Genesis’s wrists, hands, fingers – perhaps it’s a reflex, but Genesis is holding onto him just as vicariously, arms outstretched. And then the contact is broken, the air falling between them like a steel curtain. The Turks haul him unceremoniously into their van. Sephiroth has his hands open still, unseeing in his rage, preparing to kill every last one of them if it’ll allow him a chance to save his best friend – but the rioters have flooded into the plaza, yelling their grief, launching a full offensive again. And duty calls him, as it always does, away from what matters most. He watches, frozen in place, unable to decide which way to go, as Genesis’s feet drag across the floor until he’s dumped inside the van like a ragdoll. And with a slam, the van doors close, and Sephiroth is pulled into the melee as the van drives away through the screaming crowds.

• • •


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I am absolutely not confident with this chapter. I struggled a lot with it, rewrote it about 3 times, I just... don't know what more I can do to make it feel right. Not to mention I really need to move on from it before I go crazy. :'D I know that the longer I let the chapters simmer, the better they turn out because the ideas kind of develop and mature by themselves, but I don't have the time for that since November is rapidly approaching its end and I want to finish this fic. 
> 
> So yeah. As it's a transitional chapter, I could eventually come back later once the story is done and modify a few bits without the plot being too affected. So if you guys think certain scenes don't work or feel too "dry", I would welcome the criticism. <3

• • •

There’s a silence – images are whirring in his mind, and he’s sifting through memories as though flipping pages to animate a picture. In the second it takes for his lips to unstick, Genesis remembers – kneeling on the hardware floor of his parent’s living room, orchestrating a war with toy soldiers. Slippers squeaking across the polished wood as he runs from one army to the next, long unkempt hair tickling his cheeks. _Get up_ , his mother would say, _war isn’t a game_. She’d fight with his father about buying him the figurines, about making him bows and arrows out of twigs in the summer, about letting him play Midgarian and Wutain out in Angeal’s backyard. _Don’t encourage him,_ she’d say, _His future is here, his future is his heritage – it’s the land, the orchards, the manor. It isn’t war. It will never be war._

There were pictures in the paper of a prodigal child – of a teenage hero. While all the other Banoran boys got on with education and girls and chocobo riding, he’d steal away to his family’s vast orchards with Angeal and supply their secret gilded chest with cut-outs of the tales of war, of all the information they could find on this new player in the international revolution that was ShinRa’s territorial expansion. _Sephiroth_. They would play board games and take out their old figurines, reenacting the child mastermind’s strategies and wondering how a boy who was younger than them could be such a genius. The kid actually had such influence on international politics. Meanwhile, the only influence they had was limited to who’s turn it was to do the washing up, and which patch of forest their little group of friends could next go camping in. When Hollander came to meet them for the first time, explaining that they had been granted sponsorship to begin training for Soldier, they couldn’t contain themselves. They forgot everything else, throwing themselves into the pursuit of joining Sephiroth at the front lines.

Summers rolled by, filled with the blunt knocking of wooden swords as the two boys practiced against one another, bare feet zipping across dewy grass as they danced amidst the apple trees. The bittersweet smell of dumbapple tea filling Angeal’s room as they lay in patches of sunlight reading the textbooks they were sent from Midgar, about the different techniques of swordplay, about materia, about Soldier. The furtive instances at school, pressing a girl with ice-blond hair against the bicycle shed and wondering just what was making his pulse pound so hard as he pressed his face against that snowy silk, letting his hands wander across the budding mounds of her bosom. The arguments with his parents about how he ignored school, how he ignored his duties, just for a stupid dream. The first time his mother hit him, saying he was good for nothing. He would hear them sometimes, fighting in the bedroom, his father saying, _we chose this, Amanda. We chose to be a part of this._ And she would lament, _they’re ruining him with this sponsorship. They promised they’d have nothing to do with him, but he’s their creature now, through and through. He’s no son of ours._  

The older he got, the sleeker his muscles became, the more predatory he looked. Angeal would tease him, saying he looked like a stray fox wandering the corridors of their Secondary school. His own body was evolving in a bulkier, more solid shape, and Genesis always felt like he was too tall, too slender compared to the others. His looks got him a lot of attention, and there was that first time with a boy – that first experience that earned him a true beating from his mother. He’d gotten home, sporting bruises all over his throat and a distinct smell of men’s deodorant and she’d had at him, telling him their family deserved better than him. _You’re only 14,_ she shouted, _I was far older than that when I met your father. No one wants something that has been used so many times already. The next time I see you with a girl –_ But Genesis had only smirked. _It wasn’t a girl,_ he’d said.

He’d learned that he was adopted soon after, as though his mother wanted to mark a space between him and her precious family. This provoked the first true divide between his adoptive parents. His father forced her to seek help for her anger issues, and for a time she tried to be good to him again, she tried so hard. Too hard. He sneered at her efforts, provoked her until her fragile attempts crumbled. There were the nights at Angeal’s house, sleeping on the floor next to his friend’s bed and staring at the ceiling, trying not to put his weight on the bruises that dotted his back as he relived the arguments in his head. He started reading a lot, spending his time in his parent’s library while the other boys soaked up the sunlight. He’d spared a little too violently with Angeal once, overpowering his friend and striking him across the face accidentally, and that expression – Angeal’s pained, confused expression was impossible to forget. _Are you alright?_ He’d ask him far more often than before, now. _Are you alright, Gen?_

At first it was spite that made him ask about his biological mother. He would make scrapbooks with poetry and newspaper clippings relating to motherhood, leaving it open, the cuttings scattered across the room so that his mother might know he was looking. He started calling her by name instead of saying ‘mum’. He asked adoption centres to call the house so that she might answer and be confronted to them. If she wanted to reject him, that was fine. He’d reject her right back. But he started getting invested in the search. The constant negative outcomes made he grow restless. With the pieces of his parents’ arguments that he’d gathered, he knew that his mother had been employed by ShinRa, that they’d paid her for the right of guardianship over Genesis. It was the final motivation for him to forsake the rest. Midgar was where all his answers lay.

•  
  


The helicopter ride to Midgar had felt like salvation; he remembers Hollander grinning at them both as they sat strapped in, hearts in their throats as they watched their hometown shrink away beneath their feet. The box of his mother’s jewellery that he’d stolen, sitting heavily at the bottom of his backpack alongside the only book he’d taken with him - Loveless. The first nights in their brand new apartment that Hollander had supplied, cracking open beer cans and looking down at the unending ocean of multicoloured lights that constituted Midgar’s nightscape. Like a droplet of the sky, bending up from the ground with lights striping the surface. The times they zigzagged across the streets together, shouting songs at the top of their voices out of sheer glee, the giddiness of freedom pouring out of them.

But their friendship was all Genesis had in the world, and pretty soon he felt like he should branch out in order to not suffocate the other man. Along with the tuition and personal training that Hollander paid them, he attended the all-year-round camps for Soldier hopefuls; his fascination for materia finally became reality as shuddering green waves of magic enveloped his limbs for the first time. He was driven to test all sorts of weapons, though he was unable to forsake the familiar weight of a sword hilt in his palms for the simplicity of guns.

His search for his biological mother still led nowhere, so he’d started weaving stories to fill the blanks, imagining that he’d find her at fancy cocktail parties, enjoying the hefty bonus ShinRa must have given her for buying her son. It was getting harder and harder to weather her absence. There were the nights of blaring music and multicoloured strobe lights, the nights of binge drinking and theft - then there were those evenings where he’d wipe the blood from his face, work up the courage and crash high society parties. His heart would skip a beat whenever he saw elegant middle-aged women with ginger hair, laughing over drinks. But he never knew what to ask them. Hi, didn’t you leave something behind, sixteen years ago?

When he grew tired of searching, the parties gave him more opportunities to experiment. Sex, drugs, rope and leather. He didn’t want to attribute his love of violence to his adoptive mother, but deep down he knew that it was somehow related. He only truly accepted it when there came the letter from home, a year after he and Angeal had settled down and were working full-time as Soldier grunts – it was signed by his father, a five-page apology that was filled with reassurances that they were there for him, that he was loved, that he could come back and visit whenever he wanted. _Forgive your mother_ , it said, _She understands now, that the only faults she ever found in you were due to her own impossible expectations. And even though she won’t admit it – you know her – she wishes things could have been different. She loves you._

He’d read it again and again. _She loves you_. He’d sold almost all of her jewellery by then, the last of it being a few silk ribbons, a pearl necklace and a pair of golden earrings. He’d waited till he was officially enrolled in the Wutai war to do it – he asked Angeal to pierce one of his ears. He still remembers the cold of the ice cube against his lobe, the slight prick of the needle, and then he’d hooked one earring there, staring at his reflection for a long time and only faintly smiling when Angeal told him the earring placement corresponded to some type of gay code, or some such silly idea. The pain of the piercing felt more appropriate than simply tying one of the ribbons around his neck or in his hair, and he didn’t care how much teasing he got for it once he’d embarked with the army boys on a mission halfway across the world.

•  
  


Him and Angeal were 17 when they first met Sephiroth. Well. He met him first. In the swirling snow of Wutain winter, Genesis had fallen, his chest slashed through and his leathers dripping blood – the comfortable numbness of the cold had lulled him into unconsciousness, and he had gone under with a bitter smile at how small a reputation he was leaving behind, how pitifully inadequate his life had been up till now. When he’d woken, he was in a medical facility amidst countless other patients, and there was white in his field of vision – there was a beautifully androgynous face, studded by Mako eyes and a tight-lipped mouth.

 _You’re reckless,_ the face had stated, and Genesis would’ve laughed if his ribs had been in proper shape – his visitor had only known him for seconds and he was already summing up his existence with frightening accuracy.  

 _I should be dead,_ he’d replied, and his visitor had curtly let him know that he’d saved him. Then Genesis had opened his eyes a little more, realizing that the silver hair wasn’t a drug-induced hallucination and that yes, _the_ Sephiroth was sitting by his sickbed and taking the time to talk to him.

What was at first seen by both Angeal and Genesis as a certain irremediable uptightness and arrogance gradually gave way to something more humane as Sephiroth began to show interest in them. They were sent on missions, and the two Banorans betted with one another on who would be the first to make Sephiroth crack a smile, day after day – though it was exceedingly difficult to talk to the antisocial man, it was clear by Sephiroth’s renewed efforts that he was actually trying to make himself approachable. Genesis had always wondered what it was that had made the man interested in them – perhaps it was seeing how close-knit they were, and envying them for it since he didn’t seem to have many social skills. Or perhaps the war made everyone need to overshare while they could still speak and feel and relate. They spent many a night around a campfire, each describing what they had just experienced to one another, and their tales would’ve seemed alarmingly personal if they hadn’t been told in such a context.

Whenever they came home on leave, there was a significant rise in Genesis’ delinquency. Having held the great Sephiroth’s attention had put him on alert, and now there was a constant fear of dropping back out of the zone of interest, of becoming too dull to keep the man’s attention. There was that cold curiosity in the young General’s eyes whenever he caught Genesis doing something unlawful, that moralistic frown that always gave way to the quietly spoken, _can I join in?_ Glorious nights of joint criminality stretched on as Genesis helped the young prodigy out of his shell, introducing him to the nightlife; he could watch Sephiroth’s elegant hands forever as they rolled spliff, twisted the throttle on borrowed motorcycles, rolled gambling chips between his fingers, repaired parts of high-tech weaponry stolen from the Weapon’s Department private industries.

For a year or so they lived on fast forward, developing the immoderately strong bond that might grow between a victim and their rescuer: and the funny thing was, Genesis was under the impression that it went both ways. Sephiroth had saved his life – and he, in turn, had saved the young General from his own immaculate existence, from the carefully monitored life that he hadn’t been able to break away from alone.

The efforts became a bit of a strain as time went on, and Genesis realized that anyone as frighteningly intelligent as his new friend couldn’t be entertained by the same thing for very long. Angeal had looked on all the while, distancing himself. Though he understood that Genesis was only acting on a childhood infatuation with their hero, he couldn’t help worrying as his old friend began forsaking reason and pushing all limits as though he were desperate to make a name for himself. There was this new desire to be the best at everything, to surpass everyone, and though he tried several times to warn him, the firebrand assured him that all was in control. That this was how he had always wanted to live. That none of this mattered if he didn’t get to the very top.

They had celebrated their admission into First Class by returning home. Angeal had had to practically give Genesis the stick in order to get him out of the city, since the redhead had fallen out of touch with his family over the years. They were 20 when they returned, and there had been cheerful festivities at Gillian’s house – when the time came to move up to the Rhapsodos manor, however, Angeal had rarely seen his friend so subdued. They had given almost a month’s notice of their homecoming, and yet his mother had still found an excuse not to be there; his father greeted them in a lukewarm atmosphere, and the only celebration they had was a formal meal around the ancestral oak table, eyes on their plates, the refracted light of the chandelier dappling the crowns of their heads and shining on Genesis’ earring. His father had said nothing about that, though his eyes had lingered on it upon greeting him.

Genesis hadn’t returned since.

Slowly the memories warp into a dream state, picking and choosing from the memory banks. As he breathes his last, Genesis sees his mother, his real mother, standing before him with a sparkle of recognition in her eye. He wants to reach out to her, and even if her face changes every five seconds, even if she looks like Amanda sometimes, he knows she’s his because of that tumble of lustrous auburn hair. She says something that all lonely children want to hear, _I’ve been looking for you, Genesis, my precious boy, I’ve been waiting so long to meet you…_ His hand closes around her insubstantial fingers, and his bloody lips curve into a smile before slipping into darkness.

 

• • •  
  


Nobody had been able to see what really happened from the ballroom floor – the three Soldiers had converged on one another and then chaos had engulfed the plaza as rioters plunged back into the melee. Aeris had her hands over her mouth, watching, heart racing as Genesis disappeared into one of the vans which sped away into the darkness. She barely spared the time to turn her head when there was movement next to her – Angeal was walking away towards the exit, his hands balled into fists. The president called after him, reminded him he was there to protect them, that the situation was being handled down there. But he paid no heed, only slammed open the double doors and exited.

Without Genesis there to intimidate the ShinRa troops and stand up to Sephiroth, it didn’t take long for the plaza to be back under ShinRa’s control. Bewilderingly, Sephiroth and Zack just kept at it as though their friend hadn’t just been spirited away, carving their way through the crowds. The protesters were backed up several blocks away from the HQ and held there by a carefully traced perimetre of Peacekeepers. Aeris stayed until the dignitaries started to peel away from the window, some of them making plans to be led out of the city otherwise than by flight, others sitting down to talk. The mood of the room was robbed of its glitz and glamour so that they were all just people again, hunched in their tailored suits, speaking in hushed voices.

Aeris was ushered out by guards – her client insisted on her coming with him in his chauffeured car so they could get to the part of the booking he was most looking forward to, surely. Even after all this, Midgar rising up like never before, Soldiers turning on each other and breaking apart entire buildings, he acted like the quintessential client, reminding her of the unsucked state of his penis. It was hilarious. Her mind was screaming. She got into the car mutely, eyes locked on the devastation of the plaza. They drove past broken shop façades, burning cars, Peacekeepers crouched next to civilians beaten bloody. Aeris couldn’t breathe.

The procession of cars was slow, flanked by Peacekeepers on motorcycles. When they neared the train station, Aeris was hardly aware of herself telling the driver to stop, shouting it when he wouldn’t listen, and opening the car door whilst it was still moving. Her client, reaching across the seat, shouted at her that it was dangerous, was she crazy or something, and he had paid five grand, she couldn’t just _leave._ She only stumbled out into the snow, slammed the door shut and wobbled her way across the paving stones, pulling Sephiroth’s ceremonial blazer closer over her shoulders.

• • •

 

The President watched from his vantage point, one hand holding a cigar, the other holding a phone to his ear. It was a fucking disaster and they hadn’t even been able to contain a single portion of it – he couldn’t even _see_ , he was so angry.

‘We have him, sir,’ Tseng said. ‘They’re taking him inside as we speak.’

‘Good. Finally. What’s the situation with the media?’

‘The press have been notified, they are not mediatizing any of this. Though there are still rogue reporters that are broadcasting live on different radio stations and sending out photos – ’

‘Localize them if you can, and take them out,’ President Shinra said, bubbling with rage. ‘It was supposed to be your job to prevent this sort of clusterfuck from happening. How did we get here, Tseng?’

‘I know, sir. I’m deeply sorry – ’

‘Oh, don’t give me that bullshit, not today. How is Sephiroth holding up?’

‘I’d advise to pull him out for the night. He was efficient while the crisis lasted, but I fear he’s retreated into some sort of automatic mode out of shock. Now that things are calming down, I don’t know what to expect of him.’

‘Do it. Bring him in so we can process him like we processed Angeal.’

‘Understood, sir.’  


• • •

Zack sprang to attention when he saw Angeal crossing the plaza. There were Soldiers milling everywhere, forcing the last few protestors to the floor so they could cuff them, or shuffling the wounded back into the HQ. Angeal seemed to be looking around himself, searching for someone. Zack felt lightheaded as he realised what this meant for him. What he’d done. He’d been on fire since dealing the fatal blow to Genesis – pacing from street to street to help out, half-mad, caught between victorious elation and crippling guilt. He’d killed one of the legendary First Class. A First Class who had been intent on razing ShinRa to the ground, yes. But a First Class who had been dearly loved by both his mentor and his General. Zack tried to tell himself that Genesis deserved it, that he’d had it coming, but he couldn’t think straight, had to keep moving or the guilt would consume him.

Angeal’s expression was grave as he finally found his pupil. His Buster sword loomed like a quiet menace on his back as he approached Zack.

 ‘Angeal, man,’ Zack said. ‘I – I don’t even know what to say. This wasn’t – I had no idea it would come to this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

The way Angeal held himself reminded Zack of soldiers marching across the battlefield, not realising that they’d been shot. ‘Do you know what it means to be First Class Soldier, Zack?’ he said, his voice still as low as always, though his eyes had turned to ice.

‘First Class? What?’

‘It means supporting your comrades, no matter what,’ Angeal said. ‘It’s honouring them even if they stand on the opposite side of the battlefield.’

‘I didn’t see you supporting Genesis out here,’ Zack protested.

‘There’s a reason they stationed me upstairs,’ Angeal said. ‘They knew I wouldn’t attack my own brother in cold blood. Which is more than can be said for you.’

The pup stepped back, frowning at the wealth of disgust he could see in Angeal’s expression. ‘Listen, I can’t choose my assignments like you can. Lazard said to take him in, I did what I was asked to do.’

Angeal sighed as he turned to go.

‘I’m sorry you privilege your own career over a man’s life,’ he said.

He wouldn’t turn around even when Zack shouted after him, turning the steely flank of the Buster sword to his pupil as he made his way across the plaza. And Zack could only watch him go, heart banging, wondering if this was the last time he’d see Angeal in his Soldier capacity, too.

He only hoped Aeris would understand, at least. He had done this for her. He was so afraid that she’d take it as a betrayal as well, seeing how upset she’d been the last time he’d tried to come between her and Genesis. No, they had been best friends for so long. Surely she’d understand.

  
• • •  


Gem spent the night outside with the rest of them, setting up campfires and leading the wounded to the different improvised rest houses they’d chosen. If she blinked, if she stayed still for too long, she would see it happen again. Zack, turning with his sword brandished. Genesis’s unprotected back. The immobility that had followed. Eyes and cheeks blackened by mascara, she marched back and forth from the street to the Blue Dragon, dragging the injured and reassuring the younger ones. She had no idea where her Guard had gone, though she crossed several of her own in the crowds. They nodded at each other as they passed. She’d never seen them so invested in purpose. In a strange way, it made her proud for them to be up here with her.

After a while Snow called her in. She smoked one last cigarette outside of the Blue Dragon’s barricaded door, looking up at the ShinRa HQ, her jaw aching with the urge to spit. The scattered fires made its glass windows sparkle, like the riot were some joyful festivity. Once she’d finished, she went inside.  

Snow was pacing between the couches, the expensive blue velvet covered with sheets so that they could host the injured and the lost. There was a smell of ozone in the air, of magical abuse. Gem wondered how many people Snow had helped cure tonight. She caught the woman’s eye, and Snow nodded over at the bar. Her expression seemed to say, _you could use a break._

The barmaid broke out the hard liquor as both women sat at the counter.

‘You think this’ll last?’ Gem said. ‘The occupation?

‘For now at least,’ Snow said. ‘This is the first time in decades that people feel like they can express themselves freely. I don't think anyone is about to pass up an opportunity like that.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Gem said, before knocking back her whisky. ‘The Avalanche crew are good enough at keeping the crowds riled up.’

Snow seemed unaware of how carefully Gem was avoiding a certain subject, because she asked, ‘Is it true what they’re saying? About Genesis?‘

The name didn’t hurt yet. Gem had been hearing it up and down the streets, like everyone’s collective memory of him created some form of presence, comfortingly immune to the limitations of the physical. She nudged her glass towards the barmaid, got a refill.

‘What did you hear?’ she asked.

‘In the beginning people were just shouting that he’d gone down,’ Snow said. ‘I assumed they meant that ShinRa caught him. But now I hear that he was fatally injured?’

Gem shot back her second whisky and said, ‘Yeah.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Snow said. ‘I only knew him for a little while, but you seemed close.’

She had valiantly managed to hold it together until that little word. _Close._ Gem smiled at how inadequate it was and tried to keep talking, saying something like, ‘Hey you know, the First Class are superhuman, who knows what they can survive,’ but her throat closed up before she could get half of it out. Two seconds later her resolve was collapsing completely. Her shoulders shook, her hands coming to wipe her cheeks.

 ‘Fuck,’ she gasped. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. Crisis.’

‘Hey, hey,’ Snow said, reaching to rub her back. Gem just sat there frowning and wiping her eyes, like she was trying to gather up all her grief and lock it back in until an appropriate time. Snow reached around her, enveloping her in her glittery shawl as she wrapped her arms around Gem’s shoulders.

‘I just,’ Gem mumbled into her thick black braids, ‘I just can’t stop seeing it happen. In my head. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

Snow rubbed her back in slow circular motions for a moment. Gem was breathing in hiccups and gasps, unable to calm down. Glancing up at the barmaid, Snow lifted three fingers, ordering another whisky.

 ‘Do you want me to tell you the story?’ Snow asked. ‘The one about my tattoo?’

Gem took a few seconds before realising she was being spoken to, that she was expected to answer. She slowly eased out of Snow’s embrace, hands cold as she wiped the clumpy make-up from her face.

‘Yeah, go on then.’

‘Do you know where the Great Glacier is?’ Snow asked her. Gem nodded, so she went on: ‘That’s where I’m from. I come from a family of nomads. Back when I was a child, ShinRa erected a mako reactor at Modeoheim, making the area inhospitable for certain monsters. So they came to our territories instead. These monsters were far more dangerous than we were used to, but our elders didn’t care. Up there, you adapt. You don’t run. If you can’t face up to new challenges then you don’t deserve your lineage.’

Gem watched her, trying to concentrate on the story, slipping off of it like ice every time she remembered that he was gone, he was gone, he was _gone._

‘There was a dragon,’ Snow went on. ‘They call it the Lessaloploth in the Eastern tongue. I was a child. I stood no chance. But I was so afraid that my clan would disown me if I didn’t stand my ground.’

The barmaid put a third whisky down in front of Gem, and she fiddled with the cool glass as she listened.

 ‘There were hunting cabins dotted around our glacier,’ Snow said with a faint smile. ‘We weren’t allowed to fraternize with the settlers who erected them. We were taught to terrorize them and drive them away from our lands. But it was one of those settlers who saved me. He helped me kill the dragon and took me in for the night. It was the first taste I got of settler culture. He encouraged me to go back with the head of the dragon, told me that my bravery alone made me deserving of the prize. And when I went back, the dragon head gave me enough credibility to be able to influence my family, and persuade them to break away, to lead a better life.’ Here she glanced over at Gem, one hand sweeping down her scaled neck. ‘I did this to remind myself of what the settler told me. That honour has nothing to do with upholding barbaric traditions. In the end, you choose what you want to belong to and shed the rest, like a dragon sheds its skin.’

The whisky was making Gem’s entire mouth throb, but she downed the third one anyway. Snow reached for her free hand, took it in a gentle grasp.

‘Whether Genesis survived or not,’ Snow said, ‘he chose what he wanted to belong to. He chose how he wanted to define himself. And that is the highest form of self-realisation there is.’

Gem raised her eyebrows, smiling despairingly. ‘Can you survive getting stabbed in the heart?’

‘Of course you can. If you’ve hardened it enough.’

Gem managed to smile as she pushed the empty glass towards the barmaid again.

‘Couple more of those and maybe I’ll start believing that,’ she said.

•

The speakeasy’s blue tables were strewn with ammo and materia, the usual array of liquor bottles filled with home-made explosive cocktails. There wasn’t an inch of the place that wasn’t taken up by gear for the riot they’d enabled. Four tables had been dragged together to make enough surface for a map of Midgar to be spread out. The route was traced there in red marker. The shelves had lost their array of colourful sextoys and sported tear gas and paint instead. Stilettos resting against a chair, Hegemony looked right at home with her dismembered rifle over her lap, holding parts up to the light as she cleaned them.

Angeal stepped in hesitantly. He’d come here because some part of him was hoping that he’d find Genesis here again, smoking in a corner, being all dramatic like that night he’d tried to reason with him. He wasn’t, of course, but the sight of Genesis’s old domme still created a link, making Angeal’s chest tighten. They were hardly on intimate terms – she’d inevitably spent quite a few evenings in his company while on Genesis’ arm, so they were still more than acquaintances. Their relationship had evolved to drinking buddies once, when Angeal wanted to be briefed on Genesis’ state of mind, but it had never gone much further.

Hegemony’s face lit up as she saw that familiar silhouette. In a clatter of metal, she put her rifle on the table and got up. Her eyes were scrubbed raw and red, devoid of the black tar he was used to seeing on her. She was almost as tall as he was in her heels as she came up to him.

‘Hegemony,’ he said as a greeting. His voice was low, stable. He’d done his grieving, he wasn’t here to cry on anyone’s shoulder.

A second later she’d slapped him round the face, making his ears ring.

‘Where the fuck were you?’ she shouted. ‘He needed you out there!’

It was the first time he’d heard anyone take Genesis’s defense all day and Angeal wanted to laugh at the relief of it, her outrage, hearing someone else than the voice in his head accusing him of abstinence.

‘You left him alone,’ Gem growled. ‘With you there, we could’ve made a stand. We could’ve stood up to Sephiroth and the rest.’

‘You did make a stand,’ Angeal told her. ‘I don’t know if you realise this, but they were listening to you. They all were. No one had anticipated that you’d manage something this big.’

‘Then why weren’t you a part of it?’

His chest was aching as he looked away from her. ‘I didn’t know it was happening,’ he sighed. ‘It was complicated. They kept me away. I had… family issues.’

‘I’m not just talking about the riot,’ Gem said. ‘You could’ve joined us right after the scandal broke out. Right when he asked you to.’

Angeal broke away from her, leaning heavily against a chair as he tried to keep it together.

‘I was angry at him for a long time,’ he muttered. ‘Our friendship had been in tatters for years. It was… difficult to believe him, to help him, when he’d left me behind for so long.’ He shook his head as he spoke. ‘It sounds puerile now, I know. There are a lot of things that I should’ve done differently. But I’m here now.’

He heard Gem’s heels knock across the floor as she headed back to her seat.

‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it,’ was all she said. When he looked over at her, she’d gone back to her rifle, brow furrowed as she held her anger in. And he didn’t care that she hated him at that moment – it felt too good to be with someone who could understand what he was feeling. Who’d fought on Genesis’s side, as he should have all along.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know how to do this,’ he admitted. ‘Do you know who I should talk to?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she huffed. ‘I’ll do the introductions.’

• • •

 

The lights were harsh, white, staring him in the eye. Sephiroth’s wrists were sweating in the uncomfortable metal bands that held his wrists to the chair. His eyes focused on Tseng, popped vessels invading the whites with blood.

‘Do you regret what happened to Genesis Rhapsodos?’

‘I do.’

‘Is this regret enough for you to want to join the opposition?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

On the table between them, Tseng’s laptop ran a polygraph program which showed the oscillations of Sephiroth’s truthfulness. Electrodes streamed from Sephiroth’s fingers and chest, feeding data to the program. It was a process that Sephiroth was used to since childhood – he was completely impervious to Sense materia, so they had to opt for the old-school method. They tried their best to mix the questions up each time so he might not learn to give them the same comfortable answers.

 ‘I am not impulsive,’ he said. ‘I would never defect out of something as irrational as an emotional outburst.’

‘Why not?’

‘Defection should not be done out of sentiment. Defection should be done only with the strictest certainty that such a course of action is just. And I have always found reason to keep my sense of justice parallel to the one that ShinRa asks us to enforce.’

Tseng tilted his head to the side. That particular litany was familiar. ‘You aren’t a robot. We understand that. It is normal to feel like your own sense of justice veers away from ShinRa’s from time to time. After all, the Company accepts a certain degree of improvisation on your part too, in certain cases, when you’re forced to bend the rules.’

‘A certain degree, yes,’ Sephiroth replied. ‘But we can’t veer away too strongly, or the credibility of the organization we represent crumbles. In the end, if you agree with the foundations of ShinRa’s system of justice, if you agree with their ultimate goal – then you must also agree to make concessions.’

He was parroting the motivational speech that Lazard often gave to new recruits. Tseng jotted this down.

‘Do you feel like the execution of Genesis Rhapsodos is a concession you’re making?’

The oscillations leapt. ‘Yes.’

‘Is it a big enough concession for you to want to join the opposition?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘My feelings and gut instincts do not have any relevance, in the long run. Facts, information, and the bigger picture are always more important.’

Tseng nodded. ‘Some say society is built on our individual sense of right and wrong. That order happens when individuals come into agreement, and accept justice as a generalization of all our instincts regarding what the right thing should be. Don’t you feel like it might be dangerous to discard your own gut feelings?’

Sephiroth glared at Tseng. Even hooked up to the polygraph, it was impossible to know what he was really feeling. ‘It’s dangerous to believe that your own individual desires have so much importance in the fabric of society. In the end, the only choice we have is to accept the system into which we are thrust, or rebel against it. To lose the awareness of that choice, to believe that we have any enduring influence on the system as individuals, or that our own individual sense of justice is more important than the overarching societal one – that is what is truly dangerous.’

That was… unusual. He managed to make it sound both like something Shinra would want to hear, and some kind of veiled threat. Tseng frowned. ‘You make it sound like justice is the result of individual consent to some kind of governmental mind control. Is that what you believe? That you are being governed by some kind of unstoppable machine?’

 ‘Yes.’

‘Is this notion distressing to you?’

The reading began leaping again. ‘No.’

‘Why not?

‘Because it is beneficial to the sustaining of order.’

 ‘Are you ready to continue defending ShinRa, to sustain that order?’

‘I am.’  


Behind the mirror, president ShinRa was watching. The interview had lasted almost an hour, and according to the polygraph, Sephiroth hadn’t cracked once. When Tseng came into the room, the president clapped his meaty hands, a satisfied smile crooked around his cigar.

‘Full marks, as always,’ he said. ‘That man is a machine. I knew he’d come around.’

Tseng looked troubled. ‘Do you trust it?’

‘Bah. He’s always turned a blind eye to anything that could potentially hinder our relationship with him; that’s how loyal he is,’ Shinra said. ‘He doesn’t actually _want_ to believe in any conspiracy theories, or that we might be abusing of his trust. He’s too confident in his own intelligence to believe he might’ve been duped in any way. That man’s faith in us has always proved to be stronger than his sense of logic. That’s why he’s been our creature ever since he could talk, and that’s why Hojo’s entire project has been such a success. In order for him to cope with his situation, he must always believe that we’re putting him in the right place, making him do the right thing. If you ask me it would take a sizeable disaster for him to lose faith in us, and this isn’t it.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Tseng said, though he seemed doubtful.

‘I think the man’s earned some rest. Send him home, give him the day off tomorrow, and we’ll conduct another battery of interviews to make sure everything’s fine before sending him out again,’ Shinra said. ‘Since the riots have calmed for the night, we should get ready for a renewal of hostilities tomorrow. Keep monitoring and suppressing any attacks that happen during the night, and tomorrow we’ll try to win more ground. And, Tseng?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘The priority now is locating and bringing down Angeal. _Discreetly._ I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Genesis, alright? We do not operate in the public eye.’

‘Understood, sir,’ Tseng said in clipped tones, and Shinra could’ve kissed the man for his professionalism.

 

• • •

Once Aeris got back home, Elmyra didn’t ask about the man’s blazer on her shoulders, or the fact that she was wearing baggy trousers over what looked like an expensive glittery dress. She ushered her in, asked if she was alright, if she had had trouble with the riots – there’d been a small amount of radio coverage in the earlier stages of the march, until the news had simply stopped, assuring people that the situation was under control but to stay in their homes just in case. Aeris kept repeating she was fine as she trudged in. She mentioned needing to take a shower, and that was the last Elmyra saw of her until midnight, when she checked Aeris’s room and found her buried under a pile of blankets and pillows, the blazer hung on the back of her desk chair.

Around noon-time, Aeris was woken by her phone ringing shrilly on her bedside table. Groggy and disoriented, she patted the table, grabbed the phone, checked the screen. As soon as she saw Zack’s name, all that had happened last night came crashing back. The anxiety wrenched her into alertness.

‘What do you want, Zack?’ she grumbled.

‘Aeris – are you OK? Where are you?’

‘In my bed.’

‘Oh. Shit, I’ve woken you up, haven’t I.’

‘It’s fine,’ she sighed.

‘Were you working last night? Did you hear about what happened?’

Aeris sat up. ‘Yeah, I know what happened. I had a first row seat to the whole fiasco. I was up in the tower at Shinra’s ball, so I saw everything, Zack.’

Zack didn’t say anything, perhaps trying to figure out how to explain himself. Closing her eyes, Aeris tried to stop the lump in her throat from growing too big. It was already horrendous enough to know that ShinRa had him, to do with as they pleased. She tried to prepare herself for the worst, hands twisting in the covers.

‘Is Genesis alive?’ she muttered.

‘I don’t know what happened after they took him away,’ Zack stammered. ‘Maybe they cured him. I don’t know. But whatever the outcome, they’re holding onto him now. He can’t blackmail you any more. You’re safe.’

Aeris’s eyes flew open. ‘Wait – you did this because you wanted to _avenge_ me _?_ ’

‘That’s not the only reason,’ the First said wildly. ‘But – how can you be accusing me here? He pushed you into Sephiroth’s arms, and we both know what happened after that – he’s always been a fucking nutcase – ’

‘No, no, no. _No,’_ Aeris interrupted him. ‘You’ve been away, Zack. You don’t know anything about my relationship with those two men. What happened to me – what Sephiroth did – is strictly none of your business. In fact it isn’t anyone’s business, so don’t you _dare_ deal out some kind of judgement that isn’t yours to make.’

‘Oh, what, so you’re telling me you’ve forgiven him?’ Zack retorted. ‘You’re telling me that you’re all chums now?’

‘I’m going to hang up.’

 ‘No, wait – I’m sorry, Aeris,’ he insisted. ‘I – I’ve been worried sick ever since I learned what Sephiroth did to you. I never wanted to hurt you. All I want is for you to be safe.’

‘I know,’ the flowergirl sighed.

‘Tell me what I have to do to make things right again, Issy.’

‘There’s nothing you can do. Just – leave me alone.’

Aeris pressed her phone down into the covers as she hung up. She knew that Zack meant well, Zack always bloody meant well, but she was tired of being patient and understanding. All of her body throbbed with emptiness, and now Zack had filled that space with guilt. She couldn’t listen to that boyish voice any more.

 

• • •

 

She had to do something with herself instead of obsessively hold herself still, waiting for a sign, a feeling, a hint from the Planet that Genesis had joined the Lifestream. According to Gem the riot was still going strong up above, though the operation had turned to street occupation now. But the idea of walking across streets that Genesis had marched through, knowing he might never do so again… she didn’t want to acknowledge the reality of it. So she did the only thing that felt normal: she went to work.

She didn’t usually do afternoon shifts, so it was a different crowd when she stepped through the Bee doors. She smiled at the girls, feeling a comforting normalcy enveloping her with each step. She knocked on Boss’s door, stepped in.

When Boss saw her, his entire face went red. ‘ _Ah,’_ he said. ‘The return of the runaway.’

 ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Jack Callahan!’ Boss cried, lifting his hands. ‘Multi-millionaire! Who you ditched in the middle of the street last night!’

The memory came back, but it seemed so staggeringly unimportant that Aeris wanted to laugh. ‘I’m sorry about that. There was the riot – ’

‘I don’t want to hear it! He was on the phone with me earlier, kept threatening to tell everyone that my girls are unreliable,’ Boss ranted. ‘I’ve told you time and time again, reputation is the most important thing we have in this industry. I can’t have you jeopardizing it like that. Do you understand?’

His sermon went on for a few more minutes. Aeris nodded, looking down at the floor, trying to close the doors on the memories he’d just jogged. The Bee was meant to be her safe space, her little castle of make-believe. For a moment she hated him for bringing back all the things she’d come here to avoid.

Finally he allowed her to go out and get ready. She dumped her things in her room, went to take a shower. Everything seemed to take twice as long as usual. She lingered on her make-up for what felt like ages, took a while in front of her lingerie drawer to try and figure out what garter belt to put on with what ensemble. When she checked her watch, it was difficult to believe she’d already been there for two hours without seeing a single client. She opened a drawer to take out her purse, finally ready to go down, and found Genesis’s letters.

When her bell rang, she was sitting on her bed, staring blankly down at the letters. She had no idea how much time had passed. In fact she hadn’t realised she’d sat down at all. It had to ring a second time before she lifted her head. What was the point, she thought. What was the point. It was her fault. All her fault.

The bell rang a third time. She carefully folded the letters, put them back in the drawer. When she got to Boss’s office, he sighed heavily, letting his breath rattle in his throat to show her how very displeased he was.

‘This is the last time I’m saying this, Chimera,’ Boss said. ‘If you can’t be professional, you should just stay home.’

Aeris shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m ready now.’

He pointed over to the phone with his pen. ‘He’s been waiting for ten minutes. You better pick up. A certain Mr Cain.’

She frowned, heart pounding. There was only one client who consistently went through the phone to book her, and insisted on talking to her first. All the others were content to let Boss schedule the booking for them.

She picked up the phone, visualizing Sephiroth on the other end of the line. Perhaps standing in a phone booth in the middle of a wasted street. Maybe he had news.

‘Chimera speaking,’ she said.

‘I need to see you.’

The words were gravelly with fatigue, as though he hadn’t slept since the ball. Aeris gripped the phone cord.

‘Where?’

‘The penthouse.’

Aeris looked up at the curtained window. ‘You know we can’t do that. I can’t do that.’

‘I don’t care. I’ll deal with it. Come up. Please.’

His voice was choked, broken. He wasn’t calling her to give her news about Genesis. Or rather, the simple fact that he was resorting to this, breaking his own word and making a reckless booking in the middle of the afternoon, told her all she needed to know. Mouth parted, she stared at the curtains, feeling tears welling in her eyes.

He was gone. Really gone.

‘OK,’ she whispered.  


• • •  


Boss gave her a signed letter attesting to the fact that she was working. She didn’t quite believe him when he told her she’d need it for the train station. But seeing the amount of Peacekeepers patrolling the platform once she got there, she was glad to be able to proffer the document right away. It meant not having to retrace her steps, rethink her decisions.

The train journey was spent in silence, looking down at her lap so she would stop being reminded of all the things Genesis would no longer be able to do. The sight of an old man with a bag of shopping, holding onto a ceiling handle – Genesis would never get to that age, would never hold onto a ceiling handle in a train leading somewhere important. When they got to the plate, the train grinded to halt with the usual horrendous screech that had everyone squinting and complaining. He’d never react to loud noises like that, wrinkle his nose, plug his ears, complain. Gaia, his voice. He would never talk. Recite poetry.

Aeris wanted to unplug the world. Cut the constant feed of images, sounds, smells that reminded her of him. Fill herself with white noise. The apartment building was the worst. She breathed in, went through the doors, got in the elevator. She stood there, watching the floors go up, holding her breath like she was underwater. Once she’d passed Genesis’s floor, it felt like breaking the surface. She adjusted her stockings, peeled off her wig, unraveled her braid from where she’d pinned it around her head.

When she stood in front of Sephiroth’s door, she was ready.

He opened the door onto a soothing obscurity. The blinds were drawn against the bright midday light. She barely had the time to note the reddened pools of skin around his eyes, the dent in his brow. His hand closed around the back of her neck, and he led her inside, shutting the door behind them.

Wordlessly, he led her to the bedroom. She was hyperfocused on the feeling of his fingers around her neck, pressing lightly and relaxing as they walked. The front of her thighs hit the edge of the bed, and she let out a breath, her pulse pounding wildly as she allowed herself to be here, to let him use her.

He took her bag, dumped it aside. Pulled down her coat, threw it behind them in the same rough, careless manner. Then his hand closed over her braid, and she gave a yelp when he pulled, making her stumble onto the bed on her front, the fox fur cluttering around her. Before she could push herself up he climbed up and straddled her thighs, tugged the lacy sash from around her waist and tied her wrists to the bedframe with it.  

Once she was secure he pushed himself off the bed, and there was only the feeling of fur against her face, her cleavage, the fronts of her legs. She closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth of it, the mindlessness of the scene. When he pulled her dress up to her waist, she shivered, goosebumps prickling her skin. The air was cold against the naked domes of her backside, covered only by the barest slip of black lace.

The silence was filled with the unbuckling of his belt. Her breath shortened as she lost herself in the anticipation of it, that zone where nothing existed except pain and relief, pain and relief. When the first strike lashed across the backs of her thighs, it was too hard, too soon – she raised her hips as the sting ran through her body, tickled her heart. He was being reckless. He never hit her without preparing her first with softer strokes. He lashed again, not leaving her time to breathe before the leather bit into her skin a third time. And then it repeated. Again and again, until Aeris no longer knew when he was hitting her, it hurt so much, her body awash with crawling electricity, her legs writhing against the fur.

When she gasped _red_ , he stopped, and the shimmer of pain lifted from her bones, lifted through her muscles until it was on her skin, evaporating little by little. She could hear him panting behind her, pacing restlessly as he waited for the pause to be up. Her skin felt as thin and fragile as soaked paper. She needed him to touch her, to rub softness against the bruises.

When he whipped her again, the pain took away her breath. She was beyond coherence as he lashed her thighs and backside, ripping through her stockings, surely drawing blood from the way the pain blossomed into prickles and lines of quicksilver.

‘ _Red!’_ she cried, and he stopped again, this time for longer than ten seconds. It seemed he had spent the brunt of his anger, at least enough to remember that she needed comforting. In the stillness, he brushed an open hand over the abused skin of her thigh, and she moaned brokenly from the relief of it. He stroked her, from the back of the knee all the way up to the crease of her backside, fingers brushing her mound through her knickers. She was soaking and he pressed against the fabric, making her shudder helplessly.    

‘Can you take more?’ he murmured.

She buried her face into the furs. ‘Yes.’

It went on for a long time. Him, lashing her violently, giving her short interludes of relief before starting again. By the time he stopped for good, he had whipped her so much that she was sure she’d gone completely purple.

He untied her wrists, turned her over onto her back. The fox furs against her abused skin felt indescribably good. Like feathers after barbed wire. She made a soft incoherent noise as she rubbed her legs against the expanse of it. He nudged her thighs apart and knelt between them, his expression completely closed off as he undid his trousers. When he saw her looking, he took her sash from where it had fluttered on the fox furs and tied it around her eyes.

He didn’t want her to look at him. He didn’t want to acknowledge that it was her in this room. Her, whom he’d promised never to book again because he respected her too much, or some such nonsense. Then again, she wasn’t here to see him, either. She was here because she needed this, perhaps just as much as he did.

He leaned over her, pressing his erection snugly against her mound. She tensed, moving against him for more comfort. He was hard against her and she felt the answering heat bloom in her lower belly, making her sigh. He held her wrists down in the furs as she lifted her hips for him, dragging herself up the length of his cock.

He held himself still for her as she shamelessly ground against him. Being deprived of sight meant that she was hyperaware of everything else; the sound of his breathing, the fox furs, the satisfying sturdiness of his cock against her. She dug her head into the pillows, still giddy with the skittering pain that ran along her thighs.

She needed his hands on her like air. They were on her, but they were shackles, not hands. Sephiroth’s hair tickled her neck as he loomed over her. His fingers only tightened around her wrists as she moved against him, and she gasped from the pain of it.

He held himself still for her until she was a writhing panting mess, all flushed cheeks and curls of hair sticking to her forehead. Then he penetrated her, thrust into her without warning, and she screamed.

He was rough, holding her down as he fucked her hard, hips slamming against hers. The furs stuck to her with the sweat, her hands losing feeling with how hard he was holding her wrists. The sash steadily grew looser until it had slipped up over her forehead. She looked up at him – he’d hooked his hair over one shoulder so that it streamed down on one side, and his face was turned into it, frowning as he kept his eyes shut. She wondered what he was thinking about, if he was thinking at all. Perhaps the purpose of this was the same for him as it was for her – punitive, cathartic, mindless. But he felt her looking and opened his eyes, his expression raw and pained as they exchanged a glance. He let go of her, planted his elbows around her head, fastened a heavy hand over her eyes.

‘Don’t look at me,’ he murmured against her ear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he drove himself to the brink, silky white hair tangling with her fingers and brushing her forearms as she held onto him. She didn’t want it to stop. The overwhelming feeling of him inside her, the fur against her bruised skin, the sound of him against her ear, panting, sighing, throwing respectability to the wind. But then he gave a choked moan as he came inside her, hips slowing until he was moving languorously back and forth between her thighs. And it stopped, or at least the violence of it did. Now there was just him against her, his huge, heavy body crushing hers as he lay there, and she held onto him as he breathed against her neck. The world felt slanted. He’d rarely been so violent with her, and yet he was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him.

He stayed in her arms far longer than usual. The feeling of him only prolonged the timeless enchantment, and she welcomed it, raking her fingers through his hair and relishing the way her breathing was restricted by the weight of him. Then he eventually broke away, reached over to his bedside table, finding something in the drawer.

When she saw the materia in his hand, she turned over onto her belly so he could focus the spell. He spread a hand over her backside, the spell cooling her burning skin as he slowly caressed her thigh with it. She groaned into the furs, eyes closed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘This wasn’t meant to happen again.’

‘It’s alright,’ Aeris said, voice muffled. ‘You asked, and I said yes.’

His hand lingered on the back of her knee for a moment.

‘I haven’t even asked you for your price,’ he said.

‘Just… let me rest here for a bit,’ Aeris sighed. ‘My brain hasn’t turned on yet.’

Obligingly, he shifted so he was sitting on the side of the bed with his back to her. The heavy roll of crystal resounded in the air as he put away the materia. While she slowly came down, she watched him button up his trousers and then just sit there, staring blankly into space, his elbows on his knees. Then, as though remembering that he should keep up appearances, he rummaged in the drawer again and took out his cigarettes.

Looking at him like that reminded her of the impression she’d had at the ball, when he’d mentioned being a ward of the state. He looked so lonely. It was almost unbearable. She turned onto her side, shuffling closer to him, her throat growing tight. Carefully, she placed a hand on his naked back.

‘I needed this,’ she murmured as he lit up. ‘You don’t have to feel guilty.’

He glanced down at her. ‘You knew this was what I wanted? When you came up?’

She gave him a tired smile. ‘Initially I thought you might have news. About… you know. What happened. We couldn’t see much from the ballroom so I thought I’d ask for specifics.’

Sephiroth blew a cloud of smoke, staring straight ahead at the windows.

‘He’s dead.’

Aeris recoiled. She’d known it deep down, but hearing the words was almost more brutal than a kick in the gut. 

‘That’s what they’re telling me, anyway,’ Sephiroth went on, his voice husky from exhaustion. ‘I asked our director what happened after they brought him in. And they specifically prevented him from curing himself. That’s why they hauled him off. So they could make sure.’

 ‘Yeah, well,’ Aeris said. ‘ShinRa have been known to lie.’

He turned at that, gave her a long look from behind his disheveled hair. She could tell that he didn’t want to torture himself with hopeful platitudes, at least not right now. He reached towards her, touched a finger to her jaw.

‘Shall I get you something to drink?’ he asked.

 

• • •

… _There is no hate, only joy.  
… for you are beloved by the Goddess._

Genesis’ lips moved silently as he lay curled in his cell, shivering in his tattered, bloodied clothes. He could hardly form a single coherent thought after the tranquillizers had laid waste to every muscle in his body and every inch of grey matter filling his skull. He had no notion of the time that had passed since they’d chucked him in here – it could’ve been seconds just as it could’ve been an entire day. When they came for him he didn’t struggle, hardly even aware that they were moving his limbs onto a stretcher. His eyes were half open, Mako blue peering unseeingly from between his lashes as he went on reciting his poetry.

There were images rushing through his mind as they rolled him through the intricate network of corridors that led to the heart of Hojo’s lab on Floor 68. He could almost feel the bark of his parent’s apple trees against his hands as he lost himself in vague reminiscences, his only sliver of consciousness escaping the oppression of captivity by diving into memories. When Hojo hooked him up in what looked like a torture chamber, strapping his body onto an operation table as they stuck electrodes over his body, he was elsewhere, feet in the grass, head in the clouds.

_When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end,  
The Goddess descends from the sky…_

“Day 1: deterioration theory,” Hojo was saying, recording his progress vocally; “We will begin by noting the evolution of Jenova and human symbiosis, in the cased of unsuccessful implantation. According to the tests that were effectuated upon birth, subject G was not expected to live past the age of twenty. Having exceeded that age by three years thanks to what we believe to be a vigorous physical upkeep on the subject’s part, we will proceed to wounding the body in order to verify whether the Jenova cells multiply as with subject S, thus healing and ameliorating the body, or else fall into the slow, hypothetically curable process of deterioration…”

The images were sharper, black leather sweeping over the frames of imperfect memories. Red-tinted glances over a campfire, the hint of a smile on a glacial mouth. But now he knew what those rose curves tasted like, he could almost feel them on his skin – except the pain of reality was seeping through the immaterial images. And the memory of Sephiroth’s mouth on his bled into the sensation of a blade being forced through his skin, but he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t even move as they mutilated him – his mouth only formed a cyclical drone of poetry, grey verses scattering from his lips like ash.

_Infinite in the mystery is the gift of the Goddess,  
We seek it thus… and take to the sky._

 

• • •

 

Sephiroth stood in his kitchen, stirring cinnamon into the hot chocolate he was preparing for his guest. He stared at the dials of his radio, the tucked antenna. There was no point in turning it on – he knew what he would hear. Music perhaps, to account for the lack of coverage of what was going on. And more defamatory news about Genesis. There was no point, he told himself, trying to curb the urge to press down that little power button. He’d been in the VRS all morning, cut off from the world, hacking his way through simulations as he tried to purge himself of emotion. But it clung to his insides, black and sticky as petrol. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else than destruction. Thinking back on his earlier rage, it was a small miracle that he had even been able to dose this hot chocolate properly. There was something to be said for the touch of Chimera’s hand, the way her arms around him calmed what nothing else could.

He breathed out slowly. He could take the news. He was more stable, now. He reached for the button, turned on the radio.

‘ _… armed and extremely dangerous. If sighted, please call the following number… Please note that the emergency of the situation means full authority has been granted to the ShinRa forces to search any area or building that be considered a possible haven or safe house. As citizens of Midgar, for your own safety, you are required to cooperate. Photos and footage of Angeal Hewley will be circulated on the TV…’_

Sephiroth stared at the radio. Angeal, too? Then again, it had only been a matter of time. He’d been so distraught when they’d had to hunt Genesis down, that night Sephiroth had burned entire vanloads of newspapers. He couldn’t help thinking of how elated Hojo would be that Hollander’s boys had ended up just as untrustworthy as Hojo had always predicted. Poor, pathetic Hollander, nursing his broken dreams with a bottle in hand and one last paycheck in the other.

Still stirring the hot chocolate absent-mindedly, Sephiroth remembered those moments when he’d accompanied his friends to the labs, waiting around outside Hollander’s consultation room for them. How easy it had always been to talk to Hollander, even about information he didn’t have the clearance to dispense. It was thanks to Hollander that he’d even learned that Genesis and Angeal had different treatments to his. That First Class treatments differed according to body type, which was something Hojo had never explained to him. Seeing how passionate he’d been about the continued success of his boys, Sephiroth could only imagine how devastated Hollander must be now. If anyone could be prompted to talk, even in the current circumstances…

He came back into the room, mug in one hand, an idea slowly brewing in his mind. Chimera was sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing nothing but lingerie and ruined stockings, groggily doing up a fresh new braid. She glanced up at him, a smile lighting her features as he gave her the mug. He sat down beside her as she folded her fingers around the ceramic and savoured the scent.

‘Oh, you put cinnamon in it,’ she said, seeming delighted as she took a sip. Her unselfconsciousness wasn’t something he was used to seeing. He let his eyes rest on her profile, appreciating the naked slopes of it, the post-exertion blush on her cheeks, the absolute lack of artifice.

 ‘I’ve been wondering about something,’ Sephiroth said.

‘Mm?‘

‘When you did your lab check-ups, did you ever meet Hollander? ’

She seemed to stiffen a little at the mention of the labs. ‘Hollander,’ she echoed. ‘I’m not sure I’ve heard the name before.’

‘Until recently, he worked with Hojo at the Science Department,’ Sephiroth explained. ‘He had access to a lot of confidential information about Genesis – seeing as he practically reared him when Genesis first came to Midgar.’

Chimera glanced at him then, as though she could guess where he was headed. Something had changed in her expression – she looked almost hopeful. He frowned down at the ruined web of nylon covering her thighs as he tried to piece together his thoughts.

‘You’re aware that I believe the conspiracy theory is lacking evidence to make it credible. But there was one thing that seemed strange about ShinRa’s backlash. When their business partners started dropping off like flies, they decided to choose someone to sacrifice, to act like a scapegoat of sorts. And they chose Hollander, which not only seemed wildly illogical, but also seemed to give credibility to the idea that there _was_ something to cover up if they couldn’t just rely on their own legal defense.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘I think he might be the most accessible source to go to, to validate Genesis’s theory.’

Chimera seemed fully invested now. ‘Accessible? Didn’t you say he got fired?’

 ‘I think I know where I could potentially find him,’ he said. ‘Back in the early days… there was a place in Sector 2 that the Sci Dep heads would go to headhunt. Like a sort of cultural hub. It was a haven for science aficionados and youngsters who’d congregate to talk about different discoveries and ongoing projects. It was very closed sort of club – along with headhunting, it was the heads’ favourite place to go to keep up with what the city’s brightest were up to. From what I remember of my last conversations with Hollander, he’s the last to uphold the tradition. When he’s not working, he apparently spends all his free time there.’

Aeris’ heart was pounding harder as she tried to imagine him infiltrating some ultra-hip convention full of people and jargon that were leagues away from her own spheres of comprehension. He was doing this to change his own mind. To gather enough information to allow himself to believe Genesis’s theories.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘So you want to check this place out to see if you can find him?’

‘Mm. Well, it’s a long shot. But even if I don’t find him, that place is a living information network. I’m sure I could find clues as to his whereabouts. But I’d need your help.’ He glanced at her. ‘ShinRa can’t know that I’m looking for him. And you’re very good at modifying human facial structure.’

Aeris raised her eyebrows at him. ‘You mean… you mean make-up?’

‘Yes.’

She laughed. ‘Wow. I mean, I guess it’s a skill I’ve been working on, yeah.’

‘I’m expected to be back on street patrol tomorrow, so are you free tonight?’

‘Yeah. Of course. I mean, I have work, but I can always move that around however I want.’

‘Perfect,’ Sephiroth said. He pushed himself off the bed, energized by the prospect of getting closer to Genesis even if it was indirect. ‘What do you have in terms of supplies?’

 

It was just so unreal at first, to be in this flat with another purpose than raw sex. Once she’d sat him down at the kitchen counter and begun arranging the contents of her work bag on the counter, Aeris began to feel more and more like she was a kid again and that he was her partner in a great conspiracy against the unforgiving adult world. After a few minutes she had sorted everything out, between the creams, powders, make-up sticks and palettes. Sephiroth just stared down at the sheer volume of stuff, like he was admiring a painter’s endless array of different shades of red.

She coaxed his long white hair down his back, trying to think of how best to turn him incognito. ‘We better get this out of the way first,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘May I?’

‘You don’t have to ask.’

Aeris picked up a brush and yanked her own hair from the bristles before getting down to business. She raked through the endless lengths, pulling on his bangs as she flattened them back over his skull.

‘I thought touching your hair meant certain death,’ she ventured tentatively in the silence, and he tilted his head a little.

‘You’re lucky that I’ve given you my express permission, then,’ he replied, and she smiled.

‘So what’s your plan, exactly?’ she asked. ‘You go in there, find him, expect him to give a stranger all the answers on a silver platter?’

He hummed thoughtfully as she worked. ‘Well, seeing his tendency to drink his troubles away, I expect he would be entirely capable of ranting ShinRa’s darkest if I manage to get him into a proper drunken state. Usually, ShinRa staff who have access to the most intel are never sloppy in their professional or social lives. They’re chosen because of their meticulous capacity to leave no traces and tell no soul. But Hollander’s always been a glitch in the system. Too emotional, too human. Like I said, he used to act as Genesis and Angeal’s legal guardian back when they were minors – he saw potential in them, so he sponsored them, that kind of thing. So for a man who used to preside over half the Soldier project to be yanked away from it, he must be absolutely miserable – ouch.’

 ‘Oh, sorry,’ Aeris stammered, trying her hardest not to snag any hairs as she twisted one half of his great silver mass into a tight braid.

‘No, make it as tight as you can,’ Sephiroth said, though he’d tilted his head permanently to the left to relieve some strain as she worked.

She was distracted. Envious. She wanted to go with him, to be in the heart of Midgar’s intellectual community, just to see what it was like.  

‘Wouldn’t you need physical proof?’ she said. ‘I mean, you didn’t believe Genesis’s source because it was one man’s word. Wouldn’t you take it to be more ‘anecdotal evidence’ if Hollander just told you everything you wanted to hear?’    

Sephiroth tilted his head curiously. ‘What do you propose I do? There aren’t many ways to obtain physical proof like that.’

Heart pounding, Aeris said, ‘I don’t know, maybe… maybe go to his house? Maybe he still has access to certain files, digitalized or otherwise. Maybe he still has keys to places nobody can access in the labs, or hard drives we can steal.’

‘”We”?’ His tone was amused. Aeris blushed as she started on the second braid, working his bangs into it. ‘The issue is that it would be very difficult to obtain his address. The Company fiercely guards all personal information about their staff, and without a valid reason to be granted Hollander’s address, there’s no way to ask for it that wouldn’t be seen as suspicious.’

Aeris reached over his shoulder to grab a few pins from the desk, sticking them in her mouth as she coiled his braids up against his skull and began pinning it in a crown.

‘OK, how about this,’ she started. ‘Men are more likely to brag at young women, especially if they’re drunk. If I come with you, I have more chances of getting answers from Hollander and potentially getting him to take me home with him. That way we can get both the verbal confirmation of the report, and physical proof so that you won’t be able to doubt it afterwards.’

When she came around him so that she could slot pins above his hairline, she saw him smirking.

‘You enjoy putting yourself in dangerous situations, don’t you,’ he said.

‘I just want to help,’ Aeris protested, though from his expression she knew he could see right through her. ‘And if it turns out he prefers men, well, you’ll be there to give it a try.’

This seemed outrageous to him. ‘No power in the four continents could persuade me to _seduce Hollander,’_ he practically spluttered. ‘And I believe he’s straight. He was married once.’

‘Well then. You know you’d have better chances with me there.’

‘I do _not_ know that,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Seeing how you blew up in that multi-millionaire’s face.’

‘That was different,’ Aeris stammered, flushed with embarrassment. ‘He was being foul. And I was drunk.’

‘Well, Hollander can be equally foul,’ Sephiroth said. ‘And I can’t compromise the one chance I have at getting answers.’

She pivoted the chair so that he was facing her. Again, when those reptilian eyes caught hers coolly she felt a shard of ice embedding itself in her heart – it was simply impossible to hold his gaze without being afraid, or aroused.

‘It’s simple,’ she said, pretending to be unaffected. ‘If you don’t let me come with you, I don’t do your face up. Your choice.’

‘Chimera, it won’t work,’ he said. ‘How will you know what questions to ask him? Including all the technical terms?’

Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘You can… feed me the lines?’ she offered lamely, and he seemed to realise something, eyes flickering to the space beside her shoulder.

‘The earpieces,’ he said. ‘I could give you one, and tell you what to say. So we’d stay in contact.’

Aeris beamed. ‘Well, there you go then.’

Sephiroth glanced at her. ‘It’s illegal to give military stealth gear to a civilian.’

‘So is getting a former ShinRa member drunk and stealing all his secrets.’

He grinned. ‘Fine. But you’d better not fuck this up.’

Giddy with her victory, she covered his eyes with one hand and sprayed his hairstyle to cement any stray hairs to it. Then she climbed up on the high stool next to him and rummaged through the make-up. She would glance at him from time to time, holding up different creams to his face to judge the colour.

‘Honestly, a lot of this stuff is geared towards looking more feminine,’ she said apologetically. Then Sephiroth practically saw the light bulb turning on in her head as she looked up at his braided crown. ‘Actually, you know what…’

He smirked at her epiphany. ‘If I were Genesis, then cross-dressing wouldn’t be a problem. However, as you can see, I am not him.’

‘Well, it could work really well – ’

‘Over my dead body,’ Sephiroth interrupted, still smiling up to his ears, and Aeris tried to contain her giggling. ‘What are the alternatives?’

‘Let me see,’ Aeris said, going back to her gear. ‘I can make you look like a punk. That’s probably the best I can do. Oh, and I’ve got these, too!’ She rattled an old box of different coloured contacts that Gem had given her. ‘I… don’t know how old they are. But they’ll cover up the glow, probably.’

‘That’s perfect.’

She reached for the appropriate make-up to apply to his eyes, dabbing fixative on her fingers and reaching to apply it to his eyelids, still grinning at how strange it felt to be applying make-up to this man.

‘So once we get his address,’ Aeris went on, ‘once I succeed in seducing him – ’

‘I’ve got drugs, if you have trouble with that part,’ her partner added, and she couldn’t help scoffing.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence!’

‘Chimera. I told you. The man’s about as intellectually stimulating as a handful of sleeping pills,’ Sephiroth deadpanned. ‘I have confidence in your abilities regarding seduction, it’s just that – ’

‘If I get fed up, I can just drop some roofies in his drink, right?’ Aeris guessed. ‘You can’t ask a girl to do that, when we’re the usual targets for date-rape drugs. I’ll be fine without them, anyway.’

“Well, I’ll just give you the stuff, and you’ll see how you feel after the first hour of conversation,’ Sephiroth told her with a morbid glint in his eye. ‘Remember, we aren’t going to hurt the guy, we’re just going to have a conversation with him.’

‘And break into his house.’

Sephiroth grinned. ‘That, too. If you can manage it.’

‘You know I can. Close your eyes, please.’

She proceeded to morphing his bone structure, at least in appearance – she brushed different powders and creams over his brow as Gem had taught her, shading the two sides of his nose and outlining his cheekbones so that in anything but sunlight he would appear to have slightly different features. She leaned closer to his face as she worked, and he could feel her breath on his skin as her lips parted in concentration. Thin brushes followed the curve of his eyeballs uncomfortably and it was all he could do to stay quiet as she painted his eyelids black.

‘How can you women submit yourself to this – complete torture – ’ he managed to say in a thin voice as she furrowed one brush against the corner of his eye. She laughed, reaching for the final instrument of torture - eyeliner.

‘Open your eyes and look up,’ she told him. ‘This is the worst part.’

He complied after eyeing the pencil reluctantly. ‘Will it be over soon?’

‘Yes, so quite whining,’ Aeris found herself saying to the most dangerous man in the world as she approached the rims of his eyes. She dragged the kohl across the sensitive skin and to her amusement he was tearing up at the very first contact. After many blinks and curses, the work was done, and Aeris held up a little mirror for him to look into. Sephiroth turned his face from side to side, admiring the drastically modified version of his face. His eyes seemed wide, his cheekbones less sharp, his nose just… somehow different. She’d tinted his eyebrows, outlining them so that they were dark and sleek, and his silver lashes were inky with mascara.

‘Right,’ Sephiroth said with an incredulous grin. ‘That is actually quite impressive.’

 ‘Those tear tracks are a nice addition,’ Aeris remarked cattily.

‘Proud of yourself, aren’t you,’ he teased. ‘We should get the contacts in.’

Aeris passed him the box. She advised him against picking red, which was his first choice.

‘This is usually Genesis’ scene,’ Sephiroth admitted a little self-consciously. ‘I have absolutely no sense of taste when it comes to this type of thing.’

Aeris smiled understandingly; it was touching that he’d submit himself to this stuff as though honouring his friend, acting as Genesis would’ve acted if their roles had been reversed. ‘I’d pick something closer to your natural eye colour, unless you really want it to be obvious that you’re wearing contacts.’

‘Well, we’re going to be with a crowd of nerds,’ Sephiroth told her. ‘As long as I don’t look like me, whether I look human or artificial isn’t really important.’

‘You just really want the red, don’t you?’ Aeris teased him, and he stared at her exasperatedly.

‘Yes, I’m a completely vain person, everybody knows that,’ he retorted, picking up a pair of black contacts just to prove her wrong. She held up the mirror so he could apply them.

‘Well, with all that lovely hair, I wouldn’t necessarily disagree,’ she said.

‘You know, you can be extremely annoying,’ Sephiroth said, but he was still grinning. A few tears later, the contacts were in, and she was beginning to see a completely different man as she looked at him – which made it somehow easier to be around to him.

He got up and headed for the bedroom so that he could pick an outfit. Aeris started on her own hair, copying what she’d done for him. She had half her face on when he emerged again, and she couldn’t help staring at this utter stranger who was nonchalantly striding across Sephiroth’s flat. He was wearing black jeans, a leather jacket with fur on the inside and a black beanie over his hair. As he walked, he twisted a green silk muffler around his neck to alleviate the all-black theme. Oblivious to her ogling, he called over, ‘I’m taking Sense materia with us, you know how to use it?’

‘Can’t be too difficult,’ Aeris called back as she focused on her face again.

‘We’ll practice.’

He disappeared in a room Aeris hadn’t been in before. She peered over her shoulder – it seemed to be his study, from what she could see of the desk and the wall covered by books. When he came back out again he was holding bracers full of multicoloured materia. He sat beside her while she outlined her lips, buckling on one of the bracers as he watched her work.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked. ‘Seducing Hollander is probably not going to be very enjoyable.’

“Well, seduction _is_ my job. I’m sure a crusty old scientist won’t be much worse than what I’m used to,’ she replied. Then she gave him an impish glance. ‘As long as it won’t make you too jealous.’

‘Careful,’ Sephiroth replied with a slow, cryptic smile. ‘You’re playing with fire, now.’

  
• • •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lessaloploth - http://finalfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Lessaloploth


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major structural edits for this one! <3 Thank you so much for the feedback guys, you're the best.

• • •  


They practised Sense in the back of the taxi. Sephiroth sat in the darkness, eyes closed, head bowed as he tried to let his guard down. He’d explained to her that he’d been trained to be extremely resilient to any type of Command materia, so it took effort for him open up. She’d only smiled at the obvious parallels, appreciating the idea of being allowed to use a Command on him at all.

‘Simple questions,’ he reminded her as he turned to her.

‘Alright,’ Aeris said. She tapped into the materia, feeling an unusual surge towards her partner, the magic seeking connection. His mouth parted as he let her in, dark eyes linked to hers as he forced himself not to clam up again upon the intrusion.

It was like being given someone else’s emotional palette. Aeris was giddy with the disconnect from her own mind as she felt everything he was feeling, discarding herself in the process. Anger, red and pulsing under a crust of control. Something deep-seated, muffled, a deep hum that underlined everything else. Images coiled out of the dark silk of his psyche, long white limbs, a hand covering a bruised thigh, a bloody grinning mouth. Genesis in his red leathers, sword in hand, fury written over his face, and Midgar collapsing all around. She breathed, holding his gaze.

‘Simple questions,’ she reminded herself. ‘Um. Tea or coffee?’

Sephiroth smiled at her choice. ‘Tea.’

It was odd, how she knew he was telling the truth. Like it was something she’d always known that he was simply reminding her of. She grinned up at him.

‘That’s exactly right,’ she said. ‘You’re telling the truth. Aren't you?’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘You tell me.’

‘OK, let me try again, um… favourite colour?’

‘Black.’

 _Correct,_ surged the magic. ‘OK, good. Do you… enjoy parties?’

‘Yes.’

The magic writhed, tightening and twisting like coiled snakes. 

‘No you don’t,’ Aeris said with a frown.

‘I had to throw you off at least once,’ Sephiroth told her.

She grinned. ‘Can I try more complex questions? Just to see if it’s as obvious?’

‘Go ahead.’

She thought for a moment. ‘Tell me about a memory. One of your favourite memories.’

Sephiroth gazed at her as he sifted through appropriate memories he could talk about in a taxi. ‘Alright,’ he said. Something in his face had changed; he looked wistful. ‘The first time I got drunk. It was with… our friend, obviously. I’d never touched alcohol before. He took me to this beer and cider tasting session, very upper-echelon, full of pretentious connoisseurs who talked about root beer like it was fine art. Naturally I had to do everything exactly according to his specifications, as it was a big deal for me. He played along and treated it like some life-changing thing. Told me that I absolutely _had_ to drink on an empty stomach, that to get the best experience I had to not eat for twenty-four hours beforehand.’

Aeris laughed as the magic scintillated and followed the course of his story. ‘That’s just mean,’ she said.

‘Well, you know him,’ Sephiroth deadpanned. Aeris felt her chest ache. She thought it was just her sadness, but there was something tugging at her, some minor fault in his story.

‘I think you got something wrong,’ Aeris said.

‘Oh? Which part?’ Sephiroth asked, and she frowned as she tried to pinpoint what felt like a lie.

‘I think it… wasn’t a tasting session,’ she said slowly. ‘Or at least, it wasn’t beer.’

‘Very good. It was a wine tasting session,’ Sephiroth said with a nod. ‘There was white wine that came from his hometown, so of course I had to taste about five glasses of it. It was actually delicious. I think we ended the night having very long conversations about things I… absolutely can’t remember. I know there was cake and he was feeding it to me because he got scared that I might fall over and die, I was in such a state. He was laughing so much he couldn’t stand up straight.’

The way he told it made it sound like there were many more nights waiting to be spent laughing together and enjoying one another’s company. It didn’t feel like ’remembering’ someone who had gone away forever. Aeris held onto that impression, gazing up at him.

‘Do you think we’ll see him again?’ she asked.

Sephiroth broke away, staring ahead at the road. ‘We said simple questions,’ he said.

‘It’s a yes or no question,’ Aeris insisted.

‘I told you,’ Sephiroth bit out. ‘We won’t.’

The magic surged. He was lying. Some part of him had to be hopeful, still.

‘I think you’ve got the hang of it now,’ he said as he caught her eye again. ‘Remember, use it once you’ve got his guard down, or once he’s moderately drunk, so he won’t notice it.’

Aeris nodded. ‘Understood.’

 • • •

 

The place was a huge glass dome – Aeris stepped out of the taxi with her partner, slack-jawed and staring at how the place seemed to be made of multicoloured reflections joint in a great web. Sephiroth came around the car and joined her, glancing down at her with his disturbingly anthracite eyes. She grinned nervously in response.

‘Ready?’  he said. His voice echoed in the barely conspicuous earplugs that they both wore in one ear to keep track of each other.

‘Ready when you are,’ she replied.

He threaded his fingers through hers, leather gloves lessening the contact, and she couldn't stop smiling as she fell into step beside him. It had been difficult to get to the place – the riots were still going strong in a good third of Midgar’s streets, so they’d had to take meandering routes, sometimes crossing streets where burning cars were still throwing embers up into the night sky. The crowds of people smoking outside the hub were all talking about the riots, from what Aeris could hear. Most of them sported rather extreme fashion styles that spoke for their disdain of codes – Aeris could only think that Hegemony would look totally at home among these people with her shaven skull and extreme clothing.

She tightened her hold on Sephiroth’s hand as they marched into the crowd. She couldn’t help watching people’s reactions, trying to see if anyone recognized Sephiroth under the layer-cake make-up she’d lathered on him. She felt naked next to him – she was still wearing what she’d brought to the booking. Eyes followed her, though perhaps not for any other purpose than lustful appreciation. Her strappy black dress followed the curve of her backside before falling straight down to whisper around her ankles, nylon-clad legs apparent through the high slits at either side. Covering her hair was the dark red wig, gathered in a high ponytail before falling in a glossy cascade to brush her naked shoulders. The only remaining recognizable feature – the slight glow of her eyes – was hidden under banal green contacts, so she at least felt safe enough pointing her gaze around.

She didn’t realize that she was squashing Sephiroth’s hand in her grip, but he didn’t say anything. Once they came to the entrance, Sephiroth nodded at the guards, striking up conversation in order to let them know that he worked for the Weapons department and was passionate about following ShinRa’s weapon policies and concepts. It was the funniest thing to hear his deep voice both in front of her and directly in her ear – Aeris tried her hardest not to poke at the plug as a way of coping with the disconnect between reality and her own senses.

‘Don’t worry; with that dress, no one will ask why you’re here,’ he’d told her, and she hadn’t known whether to be flattered that he might imply that she was pleasing to the eye, or furious that he was counting on people’s tendency to see her as a piece of meat rather than an individual. However, now that they were here she was glad that he’d been right – as she listened to their jargon-filled conversation she was infinitely happy that people were content to simply look at her without approaching her. It gave her a chance to listen, too – and she found that she was getting more and more curious to discover what this place could reveal about ShinRa’s different technologies and scientific projects.  Perhaps… perhaps she could learn more about Mako and materia – perhaps she could even see whether she could ask around regarding the materia that her mother had given her. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but how many other chances would she have of coming to a place like this?

 •

 

As they stepped in, Aeris gaped around herself at the sheer opulence of the place. Every square metre was crowded with whirring gadgets and lights and robotic creations. The ceiling was sky-high, glass panes opening on the night sky above them and offering a distorted reflection of the salon itself. There was a second storey where she could see colourful stands and lounges admitting groups of hobbyists, their bodies hunched around the tables in deep conversation. As they advanced, she looked around at what the ground floor had to offer – there were platforms for virtual combat where holographic avatars swung at one another, their human counterparts connected through wires to the system and throwing punches at thin air – there was a closed-off section apparently hosting the latest virtual reality simulation tests, where people would stride in and stumble out again in a daze – there were sprawling stands for weapon and airship designs and prototypes, miniature robotics and neuro-technological concept designs. The unfurling torrent of technology had no end, and Aeris couldn’t do otherwise than stare and stare, her mouth open in a childishly awed smile.

‘Virtual reality simulation tests?’ she wondered as they slowed to a contemplative amble. ‘I was told about that – but I thought the platforms were patented by ShinRa?’

Zack had been the one to tell her about it, the first time he’d gone through a simulated mission. The first thing that had struck her was how much money ShinRa could put into virtual simulations when they couldn’t even bring themselves to give both halves of their city the same reality. Of course, the childish part of her had been starry-eyed at the idea of being able to travel as far as she wanted simply by putting on a simulation mask.

‘They are,’ Sephiroth confirmed. ‘The platforms you see here are of ShinRa fabrication. The youths are only presenting their own programs and virtual realities that they managed to create.’

‘But how does it work, if you’re just in a little cabin with glasses on? Don’t you end up running into the walls?’

Her partner scoffed – as a Soldier he used the platforms about as regularly as he did his coffee machine, so being questioned on the exact mechanics sounded outlandish. ‘I’m not well versed enough in that domain to be able to explain the physics of it. But if I understand correctly, your consciousness is sucked into another reality – your body doesn’t actually move, but your mind is tricked into thinking it does. It’s similar to a dream-state. You will sweat, you will be breathless, you will feel exhaustion because your mind will believe that your muscles have been exerted, when in fact they have only been contracting while you remain immobile. The mental link to your body is far stronger than in dream-state, so it can serve as a workout seeing as your physical body is constantly tensed throughout the simulation – though obviously we have proper training separately.’

‘Can you have an avatar? Can you be another person?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth told her. ‘You are you. You program your simulation very accurately, according to what you want to experience. You also have to register what clothes and what weapons you’ll be bringing with you so that the program may calculate the interactions with virtual objects – otherwise your physical belongings will just slip right through the simulation. When testing weapons, the program will assimilate the details of what you’re testing, and give you little more than a prediction of the weapon’s functionality – if the weapon is faulty you will see the result in the simulation. It’s actually the most ecological way of weapon testing that ShinRa has found yet.’

‘Like ecology has always been ShinRa’s goal,’ Aeris huffed. ‘So even something like materia can be tested? But how can the program assimilate and predict something like magic?’

‘The potency of materia is entirely detectable and quantifiable. Sorry to break the mystique of it,’ he added. ‘Most heads of the Science Department don’t even call it magic, you know. But, it’s the same principle for materia. When testing a summon, you don’t actually summon a creature into the simulation room with you – the potential of the materia that the program has predicted will erupt in the simulation. But it all remains virtual.’

‘So you can never hurt yourself?’

‘Yes, you can. If you become too agitated, you’re at risk of desynchronization – in which case your physical body actually starts moving, and you’re in danger of harming either your partners or the simulation room itself.’

‘Hm.’ Aeris was itching to go and ask if she could test it herself as they walked past the simulation tests. ‘I’d like to see if they’ve created a virtual reality where both halves of Midgar are as rich as each other,’ she added, to which her partner laughed.

‘There must be,’ he said. ‘The VR market has a whole section of contemplative virtual realities with no monsters or fauna, just alternate versions of our world that you can explore. I remember testing a post-apocalyptic Midgar, once. It was overrun by some kind of rainforest. And the slums were transformed into phosphorescent gardens.’

Aeris went sparkly-eyed as she imagined it. They made their way through the crowd, each looking in opposite directions as they nonchalantly searched the faces around them for their target, Sephiroth describing different types of virtual realities he’d seen. There was a gap in the crowd – and Aeris’s gaze fell upon the glittering stand that was dedicated to the study of materia just a few metres away. She gave a gasp of delight she took in that abundance of multicolored crystals – her feet came to a ponderous halt as she stared open-mouthed again.

‘Oh, Gaia. Look at that!’

‘Chimera,’ her partner interrupted her surge of excitement. ‘We aren’t here for pleasure.’

‘But there’s so much to discover here,’ Aeris breathed, unable to tear her eyes from the majestic Mako formations that framed the materia stand. ‘And we should split up anyway, cover more ground.’

‘Mhmm.’ Sephiroth glanced at her knowingly. ‘Look, I don’t want you mingling too much with the others. I can’t conduct all of your conversations for you; you’ll blow your cover if you engage with too many people.’

Aeris raised her eyebrows. ‘You know, this might be shocking to you, but I _can_ hold conversations in my day-to-day life with people who aren’t complete idiots – ’

Sephiroth laughed. ‘I know you can. But you know just as well as I do that you’re quite far from your usual social circles here.’

 _Usual social circles?_ What, so he was implying that there wasn’t a single soul below the Plate that was endowed with intelligence or curiosity? Gaia, he was really getting good at making her blood boil with his offhanded comments. Aeris wondered if he even realized his tactlessness when he nonchalantly put himself above others like that.

‘Maybe we _should’ve_ dressed you up so that you could’ve seduced him by yourself,’ Aeris muttered. ‘Since you’re so much cleverer than the rest of us.’

He glanced down at her with crushing exasperation. ‘Yes, that would’ve been a great idea, Chimera. A six-foot-one woman towering above everyone else, with about as much waist as a Cactaur, and with shoulders so large that every man would be jealous of her muscle mass – ’

Aeris was giggling. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ she teased. ‘You have lovely waist.’

He smirked. ‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’

‘Look, I promise I won’t engage with people. We’re up here for a reason. I promise I’ll keep looking.’

‘Fine,’ he finally ceded. ‘I’ll go and look upstairs. But at the very first sign of friendliness I’ll be coming back down to get you, is that clear?’

‘Crystal clear,’ Aeris grinned. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

Sephiroth gave her one last, stern look before letting go of her hand. ‘You’ll see me _soon_ ,’ he corrected her, as if stamping down his authority one last time for good measure. But she was too giddy with excitement to feel intimidated – she turned and mingled with the crowd without further ado, feeling his eyes on her back as she headed towards the materia stand.

She couldn’t believe she was _finally_ going to be able to ask the questions she’d always wanted to ask – down in the slums nobody really knew much about the origin of materia, about the mystique behind Mako and how, if you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the Ancient’s whispers in the crystallized orbs, even the manufactured ones. She could already feel the overwhelming vibration of magic as she approached the gleaming formations, the raw edges of the crystals drawing in her gaze and making her yearn to run her hands across the surface to better feel the naked power of the Lifestream. Whispers filled her mind as she eeled her way through the crowd. When she came to the largest formation that towered over the chattering youngsters, she could hear the Planet’s voice more sharply than she had in years, echoing through her being in vibrant greens and violets, sliding over her consciousness in a loving embrace.

She had tried to shut off her connection throughout the year in order to focus on her work and the gritty reality of everyday life in the slums – but now she allowed herself to open up again, staring into the depths of the crystal and feeling herself being filled with such energy that her eyes began watering behind their contacts.

 _It’s been so long,_ she thought, and she felt as though the Planet was smiling. Its answer came in colourful vibrations of joy, and Aeris tried her hardest not to laugh out of pure mirth.

‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’

The man beside her was grinning at her when she turned to acknowledge him; she nodded, ignoring Sephiroth’s warnings as she allowed herself to respond to him.

‘It is. It feels so powerful.’

‘My team and I roam the planet looking for materia fountains,’ the man told her. ‘While I agree that it feels wrong to displace the raw formations, I still think it would be a crime to let ShinRa get their hands on every little piece. You wouldn’t believe the sums they’ve offered us to buy our own collection – it’s already hard enough to have to sell them the location of the fountains, so we’re eternally fighting to be able to keep our stash.’

‘Well, I suppose they’ve never really grasped the mystique of Mako,’ Aeris said. ‘So it’s hardly surprising that they don’t understand why we would want to hold onto materia for different purposes than fuel or military usage.’  
‘Ah,’ the man said with an admiring expression. ‘I see you’re part of the Lifestream school of thought?’

Sephiroth began explaining in her ear. ‘Since you’re insisting on aggravating me, let me help you. The Lifestream theory – ’

But Aeris already knew more than enough on the subject – she charged on without listening. ‘Of course I am. Aren’t you?’

‘Well, it’s a theory like any other,’ her interlocutor mused. ‘Naturally, as geologists and archeologists, my team and I prefer to remain open-minded regarding the spiritual quality of Mako.’

Aeris stared at him in surprise. ‘But – how do you explain the fact that materia retains magic then, if you don’t agree with the idea that the Lifestream holds the knowledge of the Ancients?’

‘There are certain theories on the energetic potential of minerals in general, in which materia is included,’ the man said, ‘We’ll be holding a conference on the different energy compatibilities of Man in a few hours, actually, if you’d like to come and see.’

‘Chimera.’ Sephiroth’s voice speared through her eardrum with crushing authority, and Aeris almost winced, having forgotten in her excitement that he could hear every word she was saying.

‘I – I don’t know if I’ll have time,’ Aeris found herself saying. ‘But I would love to. Will you be talking about natural materia wielders, then?’

‘Among other things, yes,’ the man said with a smile. ‘We’ll be talking about the somatic differences between the three different types of materia wielders – the naturals, the ones who may use materia thanks to Mako treatment, and the ones who use ShinRa’s technology to bypass their natural inability. Actually, thanks to our recent research, we’ve discovered that bypass technologies are actually partly responsible for the dwindling of our natural capacity to tap into the magical potential of materia…’

Sephiroth’s voice sliced through the man’s fascinating speech. ‘You know what I’m going to say about keeping your abilities to yourself, Chimera.’

‘ _Yes_ , I know _,’_ Aeris found herself replying rather snappily, wanting so much to just soak up this man’s words that she forgot to be discreet – he faltered in his parables on human abilities.

‘Oh, you were aware of that?’ His mouth curved into a big smile. ‘I thought our research was quite difficult to find since there aren’t many ways to elude ShinRa’s grasp on official information – they do have quite a firm hold on the editorial domain. But if you’re an enthusiast like many others here, I suppose you won’t stop at the obstacles that ShinRa tries to put up to access information.’

‘Um – yeah,’ Aeris stammered, falling back rather clumsily into their conversation. ‘I mean, I’ve met a few natural materia wielders so I try to keep up to date. Though like you said, information is hard to find.’

‘Oh, you did?’ Her interlocutor seemed fascinated. ‘Where were those people from?’

‘Oh, you know, the usual,’ Aeris said with a wan smile, remembering what Snow had told her. ‘The Northern continent, and Wutai.’

‘As always,’ the man sighed, going on to lament the absence of natural wielders on the other continents because of ShinRa’s monopoly on bypass technologies that deprived children from developing an awareness of their own ancestral potential. But Sephiroth’s voice was nagging her again, drowning out her new friend’s speech.

‘You do realize that the more you blab about this, the more you’re condemning yourself to explaining to me just _how_ you know this much about materia?’

She would have to think about that later – this was such a unique opportunity that Aeris refused to stop at the danger of being too transparent when Sephiroth could hear every word she was saying.

‘I kind of want to ask,’ she began. ‘Do you know if it’s possible for materia to be useless?’

The man stared at her, his eyes still aglimmer with curiosity. ‘Well, materia always has some kind of potential. If we can’t access it, most of the time it’s simply because our own magical compatibility isn’t strong enough. And other times, it’s because the materia has an effect on something quite unsubstantial, like Time materia, or because they simply don’t have an immediate effect, like some summons who take a very long time to appear.’

‘What about mythical materia?’ Aeris finally breathed, unable to stop the question from bursting out.

‘You, my friend, are absolutely fascinating,’ the man smiled at her. ‘Not many people know about the Black and White materia, you know. It’s a bit of a professional taboo among us archeologists – nobody really likes to expand on the subject because there isn’t any proof of such materia existing, excepting the scant few transcribed Ancient legends we’ve managed to preserve. As you know, since it’s impossible to read the rare Ancient glyphs that we may happen upon, we have to rely on later culture’s translations of the old language to get anywhere. So, the only private treasure hunts and associative projects that have tried to find the Huge materia and the Black and White materia could only fail, since they were operating on little else than luck and legend.’

It was _so_ tempting to tell him that she had one of the two in her possession – but even in her boundless curiosity she couldn’t bring herself to betray the single most obvious proof of her lineage to the oh so charming bug in her ear.

Just as she was opening her mouth, Sephiroth spoke up again in an impatient tone. ‘I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but I’ve found Hollander. He’s upstairs in one of the lounges, if you would deign to come up and fulfill your actual purpose here.’

The fear of having to begin the mission itself gripped Aeris’ heart – coupled with the disappointment at having to leave such an interesting conversation, the flowergirl could only heave a sigh as she tried to find a civilized way to break it off.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have to go. But, thank you so much for taking the time to chat.’

‘Well, feel free to come back around anytime,’ the materia enthusiast said – then he told her to wait before striding back to his stand, apparently searching for something. Aeris shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot as she watched him talk with his colleagues – then he came back, holding a glowing sliver of raw materia in his hands. He pressed it into her palms with a smile; she could feel its energy much more keenly than with manufactured materia, and when she looked up at him she was so startled by the sensation that she momentarily forgot how to speak.

‘Consider that a token of appreciation,’ he told her. ‘I haven’t met many beautiful young women who are as knowledgeable as you are about materia.’

‘Thank you,’ Aeris managed to stammer, feeling heat rising to her cheeks. ‘I – wow. Thank you so much.’

‘It’s a shard from a bigger piece that we’ve called Enemy Away. It repels monsters,’ he went on with a flirtatious wink. ‘A lovely little thing like you shouldn’t go around this place without some protection.’

‘Really, Chimera?’ Sephiroth snapped in her ear, and Aeris couldn’t help smiling to herself at how possessive he sounded.

‘How thoughtful of you,’ she flirted right back at her new friend, just to piss off the General a little more. ‘I’ll cherish it.’

Once she had managed to get away, she headed for the stairs, cradling her violet materia against her chest and feeling so thoroughly touched that she almost forgot about her imminent mission. It was when she trotted up and saw that Sephiroth was waiting for her at the top of the stylish stairway, one hand clasping the bannister rather tightly, that the familiar feeling of foreboding clunked in her belly again.

He raised an eyebrow at her as she came up to him, clearly disapproving of her attitude though she could tell his curiosity was blazing.

‘I trust you’ll actually listen to me when you’ll begin your interaction with our friend,’ the General told her sternly. ‘Right now, I don’t care how much you think know about materia or any other scientific domain. It’s vital that you let me control what kind of impression you’ll give him. You mustn’t tell him about your abilities, and you mustn’t betray any animosity towards ShinRa unless I expressly allow you to.’

‘I got it, I got it,’ Aeris said as she followed him across the lounge area. He surreptitiously glanced down at the piece of materia she was holding onto as they walked, and then nodded over to one of the bars. ‘He’s over there.’

‘Okay. Where will you be?’

‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you. However seeing as I don’t want people to notice that I’m talking to myself, I probably won’t be stationary,’ he told her. ‘From now on you act like you’re here alone, alright? When you leave with him I’ll track your GPS signal and join you as soon as I can.’

‘Alright,’ Aeris said with a nervous grin. ‘Just promise you won’t make fun of anything I might say, alright? I’m probably going to sound really cheesy when I start with the heavy flirting.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of destabilizing you,’ Sephiroth said, amused by her self-consciousness. ‘After all, the goal is success, so it would be counter-productive for me to be judgemental of your technique. Just think of me as an information terminal.’

She looked up at him – he seemed far too entertained to be trusted. ‘Promise me!’

‘I promise,’ he finally indulged her. ‘Now go and get on with it.’

•

 

Hollander… Aeris had never seen the man before in the flesh – she had imagined that as one of the main scientists who had contributed to the Soldier project, he must be quite charismatic. But Sephiroth had shown her photos in the car on their way up here, so she had a better idea of how distressingly plain he looked. She was looking for an older man, with longish hair, and a beard… she couldn’t quite recall the exact traits as her gaze hopped from face to face. She tried to pick between two men who were seated at the mini bar, her gaze attracted to the one with the chiseled cheekbones and pale eyes. Well, she had definitely had worse, if he was indeed her man. She started walking towards him.

‘No, that’s not him,’ Sephiroth spoke in her ear. ‘The guy with the pot belly. Over on your left, in the – uh, ski jumper.’

Aeris looked, found the man in question – and didn’t want to believe that such a wreck of a man could possibly have been one of the leading scientists of the Science Department.

‘Gaia,’ she breathed, to which Sephiroth scoffed.

‘I told you it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant.’

‘Well, I _have_ had worse,’ Aeris muttered. ‘But not by much.’

‘Remember, we never said you had to touch him. Just lead him on.’

She sighed. ‘Alright, here goes nothing.’

‘Present yourself as a huge fan of his work, like we said.’

‘Yes.’

‘And might I remind you that you still have the drugs, if it must come to that.’

Aeris repressed a laugh at that. ‘I told you, I am _not_ drugging the guy.’

The flowergirl stepped up to one of the main employees of the place that had robbed her of her childhood, trying her hardest not to clench her fists as she slid onto the bar stool beside him. She flashed her eyes at the barman, ordering a drink and planting her naked elbows on the counter to attract the attention of the environing males. She could feel their eyes on her as they turned their heads, and it was all she could do not to tremble with the adrenaline of being the sole woman in the midst of a pack of predators.

When she turned to glance at Hollander, he was openly staring at her – he offered her a smile when their eyes met.

‘Wow,’ he drawled. ‘I wouldn’t have thought gorgeous young women like you ever came to places like this.’

Well, he was forward. She forced a big, grateful smile as she switched her brain to work mode. ‘Oh, thank you. You know, you’re the first man I’ve met who’s actually taken the time to talk to me.’ She leaned closer. ‘We do seem to be the minority in here. Girls, I mean.’

‘Yes, this is a bit of a boy’s club. I think they find you intimidating,’ Hollander said, clearly proud that only he, among all these boys, had the balls to talk to her.

‘Well, it can be a relief,’ Aeris said, putting a hand on her chest. ‘I get nervous when men crowd around me too much.’

‘Yes, I suppose you’re no stranger to that,’ Hollander chuckled. He raked his eyes up and down her body to mark his point. She crossed her arms on the counter, feigning shyness though she was pressing her boobs together and giving him a plentiful view.

‘It can be upsetting, you know,’ she said. ‘I’m just as interested in these subjects as the next girl, but all men can think about when looking at me is sex.’

The mention of sex practically had him salivating. ‘Well, if you’d like a guided tour of the place, I’d be more than happy to oblige.’

‘Oh, that would be lovely,’ Aeris said with another smile. She touched his arm, squeezed it lightly. ‘I’m Sky, by the way. And you are?’

‘Most of the scientific community knows me as Hollander.’

Aeris let her mouth fall open, opening her eyes wide and pointing at him. ‘Oh! No way. You – ? You’re Hollander?’

He smiled a big toothy smile. ‘You’ve heard of me, then?’

‘Of course I’ve heard of you! I’m a huge fan of your work. I just couldn’t put a name to the face – wow, fancy meeting you here, professor.’ She reached out a hand and he took it, laughing.

‘I didn’t know I had fans.’

‘You are a natural,’ Sephiroth said in her ear – she could hear him smiling. ‘Remind me to bring you to all my social events.’

‘Let me get you a drink, Sky, and you can tell me what part of my research you’re interested in,’ Hollander said. Aeris brushed her hands down her dress as he called the bartender over, making sure the front panel fell between her thighs, the slit revealing the lacy band of her stockings.

Sephiroth proceeded to dictate to her exactly what to say, and she parroted the information he gave her with as much authenticity as she could muster: ‘I’ve been following your research on the latest model of B-70 bionic arms – the functionalities are fascinating. Personally I’m passionate about technology that allows weapons to be grafted in the place of limbs – but to incorporate nanotechnology that allows artificial limbs to have both a normal function and a hidden offensive potential, as you have, is just _so_ clever.’

She was reeling at having to articulate all of those foreign words, but Hollander seemed to be drinking up her praise as though she was the first to compliment his work in decades.

‘Well, as you know, prosthetics aren’t my primary domain of expertise,’ he slurred, swirling the remains of his drink in his glass. From his voice she was starting to think that he’d already had quite a bit to drink. She thought of an old adage of Gem’s as she watched him sink further. _This job is simple enough. Get the men drunk, sit back, and profit._

With Sephiroth’s silky voice in her ear giving her all the details, she went on; ‘Yeah, I know. You were leading the field of genetic amelioration before you published all those papers on mechanical upgrades and implants. I know a bit less about genetics, though.’

His eyes were glittering by now as he took her in. ‘Might I ask where you work, my dear?’

‘Oh, I’m only a hobbyist,’ Aeris said, listening as Sephiroth gave her her cover; ‘I actually work at one of ShinRa’s metalworks industries. I supervise the import of raw materials and parts.’

‘Then you’re wasting that beautiful mind of yours, darling,’ Hollander said. ‘I could put in a good word for you at my company, you know. You could even work under me if we play our cards right. As my assistant.’

‘How do you manage to have the patience for this?’ Sephiroth growled. Aeris appreciated the solidarity. The effort of smiling at this wreck felt practically superhuman.

‘You shouldn’t play with me like that,’ she said. ‘It’s all I could possibly dream of to work at the ShinRa labs.’

Hollander’s face twitched. ‘I don’t work at ShinRa any more.’

‘ _What?’_ Aeris clutched his arm, feigning surprise. ‘That’s not possible. You’re the best they have. What happened?’

 ‘Well, I never said _they_ got rid of _me_ ,’ Hollander blatantly lied. ‘I think it was just time to go. What with Hojo behaving like a fucking tyrant, and the company’s reputation going down in flames.’

‘Mm. I see what you mean. Well, wherever it is, I would love to work under you,’ she purred, leaning in as she spoke though all her nerve endings were screaming at the idea of coming into contact with a single patch of his skin.

‘Like I said, it can be arranged,’ Hollander told her with a wink, reaching forwards to rub a calloused thumb under her chin – how she managed not to wince at the contact proved just how dedicated she was to giving a good performance.

‘He mentioned Hojo,’ Sephiroth told her, and she rebounded straight away.

‘If I’m perfectly honest, I’d rather work somewhere that doesn’t include Professor Hojo, too,’ Aeris said, before gesturing for the barman to come and refill Hollander’s drink. The scientist raised his eyebrows at her.

‘If you share my aversion to that man then I don’t think I’ve met a more perfect woman than you,’ he intimated, nodding gratefully as he dragged his refilled glass towards him.

‘The guy’s completely sick,’ Aeris found herself saying without Sephiroth’s help. ‘I don’t know if he realises that people aren’t just fodder for his experiments.’

‘Chimera,’ Sephiroth interrupted her urgently. ‘Calm down. Let me do this.’

‘I wonder just how much you know?’ Hollander asked her with a tilt of the head. ‘Though I suppose it would do me a world of good to speak freely about that goddamned man… Gaia knows we’ve all been under close surveillance lately since Genesis was arrested.’

Aeris couldn’t help perking up a little upon hearing him say Genesis’ name. While Hollander sipped his drink, she activated the Sense materia, discreetly diving into his drunken mind.

‘You can talk freely with me,’ she said, reaching to lay a hand over his thigh. She caught his gaze with her own professional smolder, before echoing Sephiroth’s words; ‘I know about how he toppled you, taking all the credit for ShinRa’s military project. I have friends who followed that affair as closely as they could – and trust me, we all think it’s disgusting that he would take the credit for your ideas, as well as Gast’s.’

_Gast’s._

The name dropped from her mouth – she reeled, incapacitated for a moment as the face before her sank beneath a blurry veil of shock.

The syllable clogged up her throat, pulsing with painful memory as she realized just who they were talking about. How – why was Gast’s name cropping up now? She hadn’t heard that name in so long. In fact the last time she’d heard it, it had been her mother’s mouth that had articulated it, the consonants sliding sweetly from her tongue with all the tenderness born from bereavement. She couldn’t – she couldn’t start a discussion about her own father _now_ , when she hadn’t spoke about him since childhood, when she’d kept him to herself for so long that he had almost become a fictional character.

‘You know about Gast?’ Hollander said, eyebrows shooting up again. ‘You’re very thorough in your research, aren’t you?’

His question had the effect of roping her back into the conversation over the miles of time that the name had just made her cross. ‘Of course,’ Aeris said faintly. ‘I mean, it was my dream since I was a little girl, to pursue a scientific career.’

Sephiroth spoke in her ear, unaware of her distress; ‘Your parents admired Gast’s work and chose to honour his memory after his death, and always encouraged you to look up to him as a precursor of genetic amelioration.’

‘My parents always encouraged me to look up to Gast as the precursor of genetic amelioration,’ Aeris echoed, and she was trying her hardest not to let the rush of heat spill out of her eyes; ‘They always admired his work, and honoured his memory after his murder.’

‘Death, Chimera,’ Sephiroth corrected her urgently. ‘Death, not murder.’

Hollander was staring at her, and she was frowning as she blinked back tears of anguish and rage, trying to force the lie out. ‘I mean,’ she stammered. ‘I mean, after his death.’

Hollander took her lithe fingers in a would-be-comforting grip. ‘Gaia, so I’m not the only one who remembers then?’ he said breathlessly. ‘I know the secret was excessively hard to cover up, but ShinRa did such a good job of blurring the truth of Gast’s death that after all these years, I didn’t think there was still anyone who believed the old rumours of him having been murdered.’

Sephiroth was silent, and Aeris’ mind was whirring, wondering just how much her partner knew about this – and just what his own relationship had been with Gast, since she’d never dreamed that the two might’ve been in contact. She should’ve asked him more details – she should’ve been more thorough, but it was too late now. She wouldn’t be getting any better chances to ask the exact circumstances of her father’s death and her abduction. If she could at least know the official version, it would still be a step closer to the truth that the Turks had always dangled above her head, refusing to drop even a morsel as they watched over her. She remembered her innumerable confrontations with Tseng – fingertips digging into the crisp threads of his blue Turk suit, tears freckling his lapels. _Tell me_ , she’d screamed, _tell me where they buried him!_ A look from beneath a contracted brow, the Turk’s almond-shaped eyes misting with something close to emotion – _You would do better to forget about your father, Aeris._ _He sold you to ShinRa with his dying breath. Believe it._ But it wasn’t true – it couldn’t be true. Her mother had told her, how Hojo had shot him in the snow, how he had fallen with the name of his nemesis on his lips – _there is no nobler death than dying to protect your family_ , she’d said. _Always remember, child. Your father loved you to the very end._

‘I heard he had a wife and daughter, too,’ she dared to say while Sephiroth was apparently too stunned to speak.

‘ _How_?’ Sephiroth managed to ask her in a strangely choked voice. ‘How would you know that, Chimera?’

‘I’m absolutely amazed that you’ve heard that much,’ Hollander dribbled excitedly – he looked around them to see whether anyone was listening before leaning towards her for more privacy. ‘Ifalna and her daughter are two of ShinRa’s biggest secrets. Sadly, to this day their fates remain unknown.’

‘Oh?’ Aeris hoped that he wouldn’t notice that her hands were sweating. ‘What was so special about them?’

Hollander’s eyes shone with a wealth of secrets – she could just tell that he wanted to impress her, that he was battling with himself over the importance of giving away confidential information only to brag. That, and the Sense spell was propelling him to tell the truth. ‘Well,’ he said, finally succumbing. ‘I heard they were the last of the Cetra.’

‘That’s absurd,’ she said just to prompt him. ‘Haven’t the Cetra been extinct for centuries?’

‘It isn’t a question of extinction. What little was left of the Cetra race after the historic plague continued to live on, and they married into the sedentary folk until their magical ability was all but wiped out. I would say that we aren’t that different from the Cetra race – only, we’ve grown fat and lazy, and have forgotten how to wake our genetic potential. Saying that those two women are the last of anything is really just for dramatic effect; they only have full access to the ancient abilities that lie dormant in every one of us.’ He knocked back his drink, gesturing at the barman for another.

‘Is this theory?’ Aeris asked, hands tight on her full drink. ‘Or did you obtain that knowledge through comparing human and Cetra bodies?’

‘Stop it,’ Sephiroth finally spoke up. ‘Chimera, we are going way off track here, and I can’t help you with these matters – I don’t know where you’ve heard all of this but you’ve got to stop _now._ ’

‘Oh, I never had access to the girls,’ Hollander slurred, betraying his knowledge that ShinRa had held her and her mother captive for experimentation without even blinking. ‘Hojo kept his research from everyone but the President, once he had them in his care.’

‘So you’re saying that you believe there isn’t any biological difference between humans and Cetra,’ Aeris concluded, trying to twist her accusations around to be more conversational than offensive. ‘I think there’s still an essential question of culture that you’re completely ignoring in saying that. Those two women _should_ be called the last of the Cetra, if they are the only detainers of the language, the histories and the traditions of their people.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Hollander scoffed. ‘The mother, perhaps, but how can you possibly pass on an entire culture to a child who was practically born in captivity? I’m not sure the babe ever had the chance of learning the language, and you’ll agree that a culture – just like a language – is essentially dead if there remains only one detainer.’

How dare he - how _dare_ he imply that she was nothing, that her mother had left her _nothing_ – Aeris could hardly contain her rage any more as she stared at this drunken idiot laying down his opinions.

‘Well, I know one or two things about Cetran culture,’ Aeris said. ‘How is it dead when the souls of the Ancients are present all around us, in Mako and materia? Surely you’ve heard that people who still have access to their genetic potential can hear the voices of their ancestors, before they dissolve in the lifestream.’

‘Yet if they cannot understand the language, what’s the use of being able to hear?’ Hollander guffawed. ‘That is, if we believe that these people weren’t just glorified schizophrenics.’

She was so close to punching him in the face that her hands were twitching. His words were igniting the strangest feeling in her, underneath the sadness and the righteous rage. He was making her doubt her claims to her own inheritance, and it felt as though it was a long forgotten pride that he was wounding, a pride that she had only very rarely had the chance to feel. That old, lonely pride of being the Planet’s only child. 

‘Stop.’ There was a deep baritone in her ear as Sephiroth urged her. ‘Stop. Stop everything. Excuse yourself and come and meet me, _now_.’

But she couldn’t – she didn’t have her answers yet. She gave Hollander a very painful smile; ‘I just wanted to ask, though – you’ve made me curious to know exactly how Gast died, if you believe that he was murdered too.’

Just that, and then she’d listen to Sephiroth’s command. ‘Well, whether his death was voluntary or accidental remains unclear,’ the scientist told her, the Sense magic surging as he blurted the truth. ‘But the context is certain. Upon his resignation, Gast essentially kidnapped the Cetra woman, so Hojo went to fetch her seeing as she had a contract with the Company and not just Gast himself. Apparently there was a fight – some say Hojo shot him in cold blood, since he was out to claim leadership over the Science Department. Personally I wouldn’t put it past him, but it may also have been an accident, since Gast was probably adamant about holding onto such a treasure as the last living Cetra.’

Treasure? As if her father had held onto Ifalna out of some base opportunism, as if he hadn’t seen the radiant personality that shone beneath the heavy, dented gold of a lost culture, that peel of noble metal that covered her skin. 

Aeris could feel a searing pain as the tears collected behind her contacts – if she didn’t leave now he’d notice that something was wrong, she had to go, she had to go _right now_. Mustering all her strength, the orphaned Cetra raised her eyebrows and nodded, as if she were only morbidly curious about all of this – as if she wasn’t directly implicated in his tales and that she wasn’t seeing blood in the rosy pulp of her fruit cocktail.

‘I wouldn’t put it past Hojo, either,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘In any case, I suppose ShinRa will always keep the truth to themselves, and leave us guessing.’ The smile that cracked the flesh of her cheeks was far too cold, and she got up from her stool without further ado, giving Hollander’s arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll be right back. Nature's calling. Wait for me?’

‘Of course.’

• • •

 

Sephiroth was waiting in the public restroom, pacing to and fro across the white tiles. He’d checked, finding no cameras and thus deducing that they could talk freely in here. His eyes were unseeing, flickering absently from side to side as he tried to process all that he had heard. The memories had come flooding back to him – he’d only been a child when Gast had left him, when the man that he had always sought after as a type of sanctuary had vanished. It couldn’t be true – it was only rumour. It had only ever been rumour. Hollander was a drunk idiot, there couldn’t possibly be any truth in his allegations. No, no, no _._

He remembered the tall, beautiful woman that they called Ifalna – the one who would come strolling through the ShinRa HQ on Gast’s arm, sending him looks that betrayed a wealth of emotion such as he had never known. It was when she had come into his mentor’s life that Gast had started forsaking the enamored child that Sephiroth had been – at least, that was how he remembered it.

But the child prodigy wasn’t allowed to grow attached. He had always been told, from the youngest age, that social interaction was secondary. That he should grow to love himself, first. That as an orphan, it was normal to have excessive bouts of rage or depression – but that it was vital to cut off those wild, rampant emotions at the root. Before they might spread. Before they might spoil him.

When Gast had resigned, Sephiroth had lost the only person in whom he had sought sanctuary, the only other person than himself in which he had put his trust, and he remembered how he had shut himself off once he’d been left alone. How he had hated that woman, that disgusting woman who had stolen away his only ally with her feminine charms.

The last time he had seen the couple, Gast had confided in him that they sought to be married; and the last news he had given him, was a letter in which he told him of the birth of a daughter. Sephiroth had burned it, watching the paper curling up his mentor’s elegant handwriting – _believe me when I tell you that I love you as though you were my true firstborn. It is my most fervent desire that you meet Aeris, so that I may introduce the two beings I love most in the whole world…_  

When they came to him with news of Gast’s natural death, he had only blinked a few times, nodding in acknowledgement as the words echoed in the hollow space beneath his ribs.

_He passed away in his sleep. He loved you very much._

_Thank you for telling me_ , he had replied, impassible. They had left him to his solitary quarters with a squeeze of the shoulder, a slightly anxious backwards glance as they wondered how such a young child could show himself to be so cold.

 _He got his comeuppance_ , he remembered childishly thinking, _He tried to replace me._

The General grasped the sink, staring in the mirror at the smudged kohl around his eyes, at the shadows that touched the corners of his lips, strangling his throat in darkness, leaving his Adam’s apple alight between dark fingers.

‘The restrooms,’ he repeated to the plug in his ear. ‘Do you see the doors yet?’

‘Yeah,’ replied his partner’s throaty voice. ‘I see them. I’m coming.’

There was only one answer to the beautiful conundrum that Chimera was. Her powers – her eyes, her knowledge of magic and materia, her connection to Hojo. It all tied together now, with the simple mention of his old mentor’s name. There was no other possible solution. But there was shame, so much shame in the pit of his stomach, his hands going cold and almost trembling as he realized just what that meant, if it was true.

She came through the doors, her face haggard – her eyes were swollen and red, and Sephiroth found that he could do nothing except stare at her as he saw her in this new light. She excused herself with a sniff, going to the mirror to pinch the contacts out of her eyes.

‘I think they’re a bit old,’ she said. ‘They’ve been stinging me for the last half hour, it’s torture.’

He dragged the syllables out of his throat, and they fell from his lips like broken glass; ‘Aeris.’

She stopped, fingers in midair with one contact sticking to the tips, her eyes catching his in the mirror as she stared at him fearfully. One eye glowed – the other was still hidden under dull green.

‘You’re Gast’s daughter.’

She blinked the tears from her eyes, setting the contact lens by the sink with trembling calm as though wondering what to say now, whether to lie or not. Then, she turned to face him, her expression resolute.

‘Yes,’ she finally whispered.

There was defiance in that look, there was melancholy, and something else too that he’d only seen once – that dignity he’d glimpsed when she’d tried to bring him to reason, standing in his living room and wearing naught but stripes of sunlight. And in that instant he wanted to rip out the heart of everyone who had ever touched her, everyone who had ever soiled her, but in doing so he would have to turn on himself too, and perhaps that was the most unbearable thing of all.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he found himself saying. Then his voice rose. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me? If I’d known, I – ’

‘What?’ Aeris glared up at him. ‘You would’ve lain off? I was always someone’s daughter, Sephiroth. Don’t tell me you would’ve respected me more if you’d known I was his.’

His fingers tightened around the edge of the sink. ‘That’s not what I wanted to say.’

There was silence for a moment. Aeris pinched her second contact lens out, sighing with relief as she pressed her fingertips against her closed eyelids.

‘I don’t understand why you would be in Midgar,’ he said at length.

‘I’m like you. I’m a ward of the state.’

‘That doesn’t make sense,’ Sephiroth said. ‘You were from the North, that’s what Gast told me, you… you were born in the North.  You weren’t born in captivity.’

He couldn’t seem to reconcile what he’d always known with what he’d just heard. Aeris wondered what kind of girl she’d been in his mind if he’d known about her all this time. For a moment it was comforting to imagine the girl in the big fur cloak, walking hand in hand with her mother through some immortal Northern market. Faerie lights hung up in a snowy town, footprints in the snow.

‘I spent about five years in the North, yeah,’ Aeris told him, her throat tight. ‘I don’t know how long exactly. It’s all kind of a blur. They don’t celebrate birthdays in the labs, so.’

Sephiroth frowned down at the curved silver tap. ‘The labs,’ he murmured. ‘They kept you there?’

Aeris raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying not to let the brimming tears ruin her make-up. ‘Few years, yeah. Gaia, I need a cigarette.’

‘You were here all this time,’ Sephiroth said, shaking his head. He still couldn’t look at her. ‘You and Ifalna.’

He was making such a mental effort to try and reconstruct the timelines that he didn’t notice her sniffing and bringing both hands to eyes, brushing her tears along her waterlines. When he turned to her, mouth open around a question, she asked in a tiny tear-choked voice, ‘Can we please not talk about this right now?’ and he felt incoherent rage building in his chest at the sight of her breaking. She wiped at her eyes but tears escaped anyway, running black and gold down her cheeks.

He slid a hand across her naked shoulder blades, felt her bones under his palm clicking into a defensive clutter with the unexpected contact. Then she turned to him, looking up at him with that raw, heartbroken expression, and he saw them, he saw them in her face, it had been so obvious. All this time. He had no right to touch her after what he’d done, he was only beginning to process the extent of his crimes – but she slid her arms around his waist, hugging him as she sighed into his shirt. And he wrapped his arms around her, because whoever her parents were, whatever he might’ve done, she was still that barefooted girl he’d met, alone and scared and in over her head. 

Her breaths shivered for a moment as she tried to hold herself together.

 ‘You knew about me?’ she muttered thickly into his shirt.

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said, cheek against the smooth red crown of her wig. ‘Well, only vaguely. Gast told me about you in a letter, once.’

‘Gaia, I can’t believe you knew my father. It’s so strange.’

‘It doesn’t even feel like that long ago,’ Sephiroth said. He let a few seconds pass before tightening his hold on her and adding, ‘They told me he died of natural causes.’

She laughed bitterly. Couldn’t get the words out, but he heard them nonetheless. _Of course they did._

He could tell that she didn’t want to break down in front of him, that she was trying her hardest to keep it contained, but the more she fought against it, the more she succumbed. And he held onto her as her hands fumbled and gripped the back of his shirt, shoulders heaving as she failed to repress her sobs, every peal torn from her chest making him feel a surge of empathy that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

He was holding Gast’s daughter in his arms. He glanced at the mirror, as though seeing her reflection might make it feel more real. But he still just saw Chimera, the girl he’d come to know, the girl who smelled like flowers and couldn’t dance, the girl who’d taught him more about himself than anyone else. It occurred to him that she might not have had the chance to speak about Gast with anyone who had personally known him before, which was why she’d been so adamant about getting as much information out of Hollander as she could. Sephiroth gritted his teeth – there was a staggering amount of questions and apologies ready to burst from his mouth, but he tried to swallow it all for now, holding onto her for a few long minutes as she tried to calm down. His free hand came around the back of her neck, eyes shut, arms receptive to every little shake of her shoulders, his mind was steadily wiped clean of everything other than the desire to hold her until her grief passed.

When her sobs had subsided to a few tremulous sniffs, Aeris tried to articulate a few muffled words;

‘I think I’ve ruined your shirt.’

‘It’s fine. I can just wear it inside-out.’

‘The people outside will get the wrong idea,’ she said thickly, and he could even hear the hint of a smile in her voice.

‘Let them make their petty judgements. You and I are above that.’

She was silent for a moment, as though appreciating what he’d just said. ‘Still, I’m going to have to do my face up all over again,’ she finally mumbled, apparently set on steering the discussion away from her father.

‘There’ll be no need for that,’ Sephiroth replied. ‘You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you go back upstairs again?’

‘I’m fine,’ Aeris told him with another sniff, pulling her face away from him – her make-up ran in long black lines down her cheeks, and though it wasn’t necessarily distasteful to the eye, it certainly wouldn’t do to face everyone outside with that look. ‘Besides, we’ve kept him waiting for far longer than what’s acceptable.’

But Sephiroth wouldn’t let go. ‘I’m not saying you aren’t capable of going back out there. I’m saying it’s completely unacceptable for you to do this.’

Aeris stared up at him through her sticky black mess of lashes. ‘Being his daughter doesn’t change anything.’

‘Aeris, it changes _everything._ ’

‘No,’ she insisted. ‘The political situation is still exactly the same outside this room. And you said it yourself, Hollander is far too careful about being followed if I don’t get some drinks into him and distract him. We’re here for proof, remember – we’re here for our friend, and I’m not leaving without the evidence that you need to change your mind.’

‘I can’t,’ Sephiroth growled. ‘I can’t let him talk to you with that fucking condescension of his, and much less touch you – ’

‘It doesn’t have to come to that,’ she told him gently. ‘And even if he does decide to be creepy, I know you’ll be watching over me. So there’s really no problem.’

He stared long and hard at her, disbelieving before her naked compassion, wondering about the eternal riddle of sacrificing one’s own desires for the sake of others. He knew just as well as she did that time was ticking, and once again even though he had a million questions, there was simply no time for them to indulge in a more thorough conversation if they wanted to finish their work here.  
After a few seconds of hesitation he pulled her close, pressed his lips against her forehead.

‘If he touches a single hair on your head I will rip the arms from his body,’ he murmured against her hairline, and she found herself oddly divided between absolute horror and the sweet protectiveness of the gesture.

‘You really shouldn’t,’ she said with a tentative smile. ‘I mean, we do need to keep him alive and kicking.’

He looked at that impossible smile, how it bloomed in her otherwise ashen face, and couldn’t do otherwise than humour her. ‘Maybe just a few fingers would be more discreet.’

‘Yeah,’ Aeris agreed with a  laugh. ‘Just a few fingers, if it’ll make you feel better.’

‘What would make me feel better is if you didn’t – ’

‘No, I’ve _got_ to do this,’ she interrupted tiredly. ‘And I don’t mind, alright? I don’t mind at all.’

She looked up at him for a final, definitive sign of approval. And Sephiroth let out a ragged sigh of frustration as he finally accepted that it would be a waste to stop in their efforts now, when they were so close to their goal.

He turned away from her, letting go of her so she could be free to work on her face.

‘Alright.’

• • •


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main difficulty with this part was keeping the lurching emotional parts of the first draft, cutting down on some unneeded lyricism, and trying to add realism to both Aeris's reactions and her and Sephiroth's dialogues/interactions. Tbh by now I just can't tell if the tone still manages to be consistent, because the "old bits" jump out at me a lot, I'm not sure if there's 'too much' going on and if it tugs the reader around too much and... yeah, I am completely unconfident as always. :'D Anyway I've polished it as much as I can for the time being, so I hope this chapter is consistent enough and that it lives up to expectations! (And yeah, this part of the story ballooned into a huge chapter that I cut in two again, I have no self-control.)

• • •  
  


She would probably remember the exact cracks, the imperfections in the ice cubes for days after, she’d been staring at them for so long. The comparisons shifted – they went from fairies fluttering silver-leaf wings, contortions cryogenized among suspended bubbles of air, to snapshots of scattered dandelion seeds, frozen in time. She tilted the glass, just to make the tiny prisons clink together, as though the reverberations could free what was trapped inside.

There was a hand on her knee, heavy, sweat seeping through the thin layer of her dress and staining her knee with unwanted intimacy. When she looked up at him, her gaze was full of bloodlust and she wasn’t even aware of it. So many painful memories were resurfacing after years and years of careful forgetting, and she had no idea how to deal with them otherwise than to keep talking, keep working, stay on the mission.  

‘… that’s what I’ve always said,’ Hollander drawled, beads of alcohol hanging on his beard and breaking into long milky lines whenever he smiled. ‘Better a good career, than a good woman. That’s why I dedicated myself to the department.’

‘And that’s why you dedicated yourself to Genesis and Angeal,’ Aeris tried to reorient the conversation again – he’d been babbling about his life and achievements before being fired. She had just nodded along, smiling, thinking about her father’s dark figure in the snow, his head leaking a bright red halo as she waited for the conversation to turn.

‘Yes,’ Hollander slurred. ‘Genesis and Angeal.’ He would sway dangerously on his stool every time he made a gesture. ‘Do you know how much _money_ I spent on those fucking boys? Do you? Go ahead and guess.’

He was leaning into her, and she stayed as still as marble, gaze flickering to his hand on her thigh. Maybe if she looked hard enough, her gaze would pierce it through and through like daggers. She looked at it harder.

‘I’m more interested in how much time you spent with them,’ she replied. ‘Were you very close?’

‘Bah!’ He stretched his furry throat up as the last of his liquor trickled down the drain of his mouth. ‘It’s never very professional to let yourself get too attached to the people you invest in.’

‘But why did you sponsor them at all, then, if you didn’t care about them?”

‘You girls,’ he spouted, leering up at her. ‘You’re always fretting about how much we care, aren’t you? No, it’s touching, really.’ He leaned closer, and she squinted as she anticipated the scratch of his beard against her cheek. ‘I’m a very caring man, you know,’ he wheezed, his breath drenching their faces in a putrid yellow stink.

She concentrated on the thought of Sephiroth breaking his fingers one by one as she smiled.

‘Mm, I’m sure you are,’ she said, stroking his chest and pushing him away as she did so. ‘But I’m not talking about _that_ kind of affection.’

‘It’ll be over soon,’ Sephiroth offered his support, his voice gruff with suppressed anger. ‘If you want me to distract him so that you might drop the stuff in his drink, clear your throat now.’

It was tempting – but she still had questions that needed answering, so it was necessary to endure Hollander’s ragged consciousness a little longer.

 ‘Well I never said I _didn’t_ care about them,’ Hollander drawled, eyelids too heavy to lift even as he arched his eyebrows at her. ‘They just fucked it all up, didn’t they? All the efforts, all the _years_ of effort and time and _money_ I spent on those damn kids – and Genesis just goes and cocks it all up so majestically that all of our lives go up in flames.’

‘I just can’t help wondering whether the leaked information is true or not,’ she said, finally getting to the heart of the matter. ‘I mean that’s the million Gil question, isn’t it? Is he right about the origin of Soldier? Do you know the truth?’

Hollander laughed his drunken guffawing laugh. ‘Oh, darling, if only you knew,’ he said. ‘Why do you think ShinRa fired me? Of course I know the truth. I’m the one who started the whole project , even if it was Sephiroth they chose to be Soldier’s precious fucking prow-head, when it should’ve been my boys, _my_ glory.’

‘And what is the truth?’ Aeris prompted him, heart banging. She leaned close enough to press her shoulder against his, put her hand on his upper thigh, fingers near his groin. She could feel the fabric of his trousers straining over an erection as she threw everything she had at him.

‘Oh ho ho,’ he laughed. ‘I don’t give out that kind of information for free. You work at ShinRa, you keep ShinRa’s secrets. That’s how it’s always been.’

Swallowing her disgust, Aeris moved her hand, cupping his pitifully small cock. She focused all her energy on the Sense spell, like she could increase its manipulative powers and make him spit it out.

‘You don’t work for ShinRa any more,’ she said, lips by his ear. ‘And who said you wouldn’t get anything in return?’

‘You are ruthless,’ Hollander grumbled in delight. His hands were fumbling in her lap, trying to dip between her firmly shut thighs. ‘But it’d be suicide to talk about it here.’

She almost sighed with relief. They had finally broken through to the next part of the mission, and she needed to hurry things along so that she might stop fantasizing about chucking her drink into his already vastly populated beard.

‘Let’s go, then,’ she whispered.

He stared at her, the brown sludge of his eyes smearing his lustful intent over her face.

‘Your place?’ he asked breathlessly. Clearly he couldn’t believe his luck.

‘No, it’s too far away,’ she muttered. Her fingers tightened around his cock. ‘I don’t want to wait.’

She glanced down at the crusted saliva scumming the surface of his lips as he smiled, letting him lean in until she could no longer stand the proximity. Then she slid off her stool, glancing over her shoulder at him in a sly encouragement to try harder, when her legs were actually trembling with the urge to run _._

He contemplated the slightly plastic glint of green, the elegant geometry of her blood-red smile. Then he got up, slid an arm around her waist.

‘Let’s go.’

 

• • •

 

She’s losing herself – such a pretty little thing, playing with the matches of her past though she knows that the flames are getting too close to her fingertips. The more Hollander touches her, the more she lets him invade her, the closer the heat comes. She’s trying to protect herself but she can’t – he cracked the heavy golden halo of her ancestry with his careless words, and now it’s too broken for nobility. Now her suffering feels silly and inappropriate.  She shouldn’t suffer. She has no notion of the history of her people, like her mother did. She knows next to nothing _,_ so how can she even call herself Cetra? How could she possibly deserve any respect, when she’s only a ghost – a vague imprint of something long dead, like the print of a hand against a foggy window, being steadily taken up by the cold condensation of the modern, the sceptic, the irreligious?

The old anxieties stretch up and form silhouettes as she imagines her father staring at her, shaking his head at the holes in her tights and her smudged lipstick. _Is this it?_ He would say, and his disappointed melts her, disintegrates her - _the legacy of the Ancients? Is this what you’re doing with your inheritance?_

They’ve been in the back of a chauffeured car for a moment now, Hollander taking full advantage of their proximity. Aeris is practically on autopilot so she can’t remember how long they’ve been moving. Open-mouthed, bare-breasted, she imagines all the things she buried slowly clawing their way to the surface, the carcass of her old inadequacy climbing up her ribs and she can’t _breathe_ with the overwhelming sense of solitude, of futility, filling her mouth like dirt.

The car stops, and they’re stumbling across a street, the streetlights stretching their shadows into a monstrous hybrid as she helps Hollander to his front door. He’s got one arm around her waist, palm weighing on her backside and Sephiroth’s voice is in her ear as they cross the threshold. Something about him having her coordinates thanks to the GPS signal in her earpiece, that he’ll be there as soon as possible. Aeris is in a daze, fighting tears and when Hollander presses her up against a wall it’s all she can do to endure it without screaming. With every layer of sanity that he peels away from her with teeth and lips she finds herself casting for a lifeline – latching onto Genesis, reminding herself that this is for him, that everything she’s doing is for him.

‘Greedy,’ she says against Hollander’s slippery, disgusting mouth. ‘You haven’t told me anything yet.’

‘I’m sorry, you’re just so difficult to resist,’ he says, snuffling against her neck like a pig.

Aeris pushes him away too hard, making him stumble backwards. He looks at her, too lustful to see anything other than sexual games in her aggressiveness.

‘Is it true then?’ she asks. Slowly pulls down a strap of her dress as she talks.

Hollander grabs her again. So she pushes him, sends him staggering. He grabs the bannister at the foot of the stairs, dazed as he looks at her.

‘Oh ho ho,’ he laughs at her. ‘So vicious.’

‘You gonna tell me or not?’ Aeris snarls.

She brushes down the other strap, lets the top of her dress fall down to her waist. He looks at her bared bra, cups still pulled down from the car journey so that her breasts spill out. He goes over to a wall by the stairs, turns on a switch, and something clicks on in the house – music starts playing, loud enough to have to shout over. Then he comes up to her and she lets him pull her against his gut.

‘It’s true,’ he whispers against her throat, right under the earpiece, ‘all of it, everything Genesis said. We found something that wasn’t from this world, and we used it for the good of the Company, whatever the fuck that even means any more.’  

‘How do I know you aren’t lying?’ Aeris asks. She’s listening hard for Sephiroth’s reaction, wondering  if she’s missed something because of the music, but he’s silent. She can’t even hear him breathing – maybe he twitched his feed off while he made his plans. She knows he must still be listening but she can’t shake the impression of being entirely alone.

‘Oh, the things I could show you,’ Hollander murmurs. His drunken eyes sparkle up at her in the darkness. ‘There are files that no longer exist. Files that the Company either burned or buried a long time ago. Files I kept.’

‘Here?’ Aeris says, heart in her throat.

He only smiles. They leave coils of clothing on the stairs as they stagger up to the landing, tripping on his coat and scarf and ski jumper. He presses her up against a wall in the dark corridor and the sound of tearing fabric is swallowed by the noisy music as his hands work at the slits of her skirt. She lets her head rock against the wall as she waits for Sephiroth to give her a sign, to tell her he’s there.

‘Show me,’ she says desperately. ‘Give me something.’

‘What?’ asks Hollander, and then finally Sephiroth’s baritone is in her ear, overrunning Hollander’s nasal voice; ‘I’m here, Aeris. I’m here. I’m coming.’

Aeris sighs in relief. ‘Show me what she looked like,’ she whispers to Hollander. ‘The Calamity.’

He asks her to do certain things, things that make her want to vomit, and she promises to do them. So he goes into his bedroom, opens a draw, takes out a tiny key from under the false bottom. Leads her down the corridor to a closet, which he opens. He pushes the brooms out the way, revealing a tiny keyhole, which he unlocks. Then they’re stepping into the closet, into a secret windowless room which is choked with stacked papers and a load of different parts of old computers. Three screens are balanced on top of piles of dusty folders. He goes to one of the buried shelves, sifts through stacks of papers until he finds what he’s looking for – a dog-eared notebook with bits and pieces jammed between its pages.

‘There you are,’ he says, taking out a page and showing her.

Aeris looks down at it. Something is screaming at her not to touch it, but she forces herself to, pinching it at the corners like an old sock. Hollander switches on a lamp, and the dusty light touches the faded inkwork, revealing a body that seems to be regurgitating itself. Aeris stares down at it, a shudder running through her core. It looks almost human. Like it was trying very hard to simulate what a human being might look like before it got torn apart. 

Two thousand years old, she tells herself, trying to see it for what it is. She’s holding a drawing of the great plague between her fingertips. It looks like such a shrunken, shriveled old thing.

Hollander plucks it away from her again, slips it in between the pages of his notebook. His expression is smug, expecting satisfaction on her part. He wants her to submit herself to him right there, in the middle of the illicit paperwork, like his final fuck you to ShinRa. But all she can feel is the tremor of disgust in every inch of her body. Thanks to this pause, this reminder of where she comes from, she has enough space to breathe. To find herself again. The Calamity was meant to be a threat to all life on the Planet, and yet her ancestors managed to tear her down, turn her into that pathetic misshapen excuse of the terror she used to be. So why should she cower in the dark, accept to debase herself for the likes of him, when she comes from _that_ lineage? It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know everything, doesn’t remember everything. She can never be cut off, not really. Not when her ancestors’ voices are all around her. Not when the opportunities to learn more will always be there.

She got what she came for. There’s no way she’s going to let him touch her while she waits for Sephiroth to arrive.

He leads her to the bedroom, and she pushes him onto the bed. He’s still laughing drunkenly, still appreciating how rough she is, like she’s only pretending. She straddles him, wearing naught but lingerie, and he tries to reach for her but she backhands him across the face. He frowns up at her but all she can see is a representative of that godforsaken Company, of that wretched place with its needles and its tattoos and its blood on glass walls. Child-snatchers and mad scientists, the lot of them. The mattress beneath her feels like the concrete of the train station that day, and she’s as breathless as she was then, a child with legs like trembling reeds and reddened hands clasping for someone, _anyone,_ because she’s only ever known loneliness and bereavement and it’s because of _them – it’s because of THEM._

Sephiroth is saying something, he’s here, can he come up yet, but she’s not listening. Her eyes are wide and brimming with tears, and before she knows it she’s got her hands on Hollander’s throat and he’s smiling through his bloody beard because he must think it’s foreplay, what did Genesis call it? Breath control, asphyxiophilia, strangulation – but here it’s murder, it’s _murder_ and she can’t help herself because he’s stripped her of her patience, her compassion, the carefully constructed woman she grew up to be, and under all that there’s a savage desire for life, there’s that little girl in the cheap cotton with her bloodied knees who never got any explanation.

She thinks of the light dying in her mother’s amethyst eyes, and her fingers tighten, and tighten some more.

 

•

 

Sephiroth is climbing the stairs as quietly as he can – he’d guessed from the strange noises and Aeris’ utter lack of reaction to his own prompts that something was very wrong. He’d had to control his own boiling disgust at the sound of Hollander kissing her, the forced moans that he’d heard her emit, so when she hadn’t responded to him for the third time he’d broken into the house without further thought.

He’s starting to understand that Aeris had probably known much better than he did exactly what she was getting herself into tonight, and the thought makes Sephiroth clench his jaw as he makes his way across the landing. He slides a hand along the doorframe of the bedroom, glancing inside – only to find her straddling their target, both arms outstretched as she strangles him. The tension in her arms tells Sephiroth all he needs to know about her intentions, and for a moment he can’t do otherwise than stare disbelievingly – it seems so unlikely that she might snap, that she might let out this type of murderous impulse. He’d known that she was tough, but to go this far, to act on hatred instead of rationalizing it and showing compassion as she usually does – no, this is her lashing out after being unable to process all the shit she’s had to take this evening. And he shouldn’t be admiring the scene because she’ll probably regret it once she actually thinks about what she’s doing. Not to mention, she’s completely jeopardizing their mission, too – but strangely enough it comes as an afterthought, as though he’s too enrapt by the sight of her to be lucid.

A handful of seconds trickle by and Sephiroth still hasn’t moved as he contemplates the scene. It actually takes him a moment to realize that despite how she’s at the very end of her tether, she’s never appealed to him more than like this. She’s so beautifully visceral, fighting despite her soft nature, fighting for her survival or her dignity or her mental sanity, or perhaps all of them at once. She’s brimming with rage and the sheer power in her expression, in the knotted muscles of her arms – it’s making him see her in that familiar light, that feral majesty that he’d glimpse whenever she’d fight against him, when she’d break his skin with her nails, silver hair tangled between her fingers.

He wonders if he’s always known that she was equal to him, or perhaps, too wonderfully strange to even be comparable to him at all. But there’s no time to think about that, because she’s squeezing the life out of their informant and he’s got to do something instead of appreciate what a magnificent murderer she makes.

The General strides across the bedroom in the next few seconds. Hollander has his mouth open, tongue forced out, eyes rolled back. He’s unconscious beneath her, so Sephiroth grabs Aeris’ wrists and pries her hands from their target’s throat, wrenching her off the bed in the process. She stumbles, abruptly pulled out of her mindless vengeance. Sephiroth frowns down at her as she turns those wide, panicked eyes up to him.

Neither dare to breathe too loudly as they stare at each other. Then as though hit by the same realization, they both turn their heads to check Hollander. He’s lying there in a grotesque state of undress, still very much unconscious. Sephiroth holds two fingers over his mouth, feeling for his breathing. Then, satisfied, he pulls Aeris out of the room, striding out into the hallway and pushing her up against the wall just next to the doorway, his expression carefully drawn he looks at her hard.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

The General watches her as she tries to control her breathing, her eyes wandering down to his mouth as she searches for some justification. Blue neon light from outside makes her skin glitter with tears; her cheeks seem to be veined with crystal as she tries to speak. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers. Her chest is heaving and he can hear how constricted her throat is, how hard it must be to force a single word out. ‘He just – he made me so angry.’

He can hear each shuddering breath that she takes between her sentences even with the blaring music – her hands are holding onto his shirt, halfway between pushing him away and pulling him closer. And all he can think of as he looks at her is the girl she must’ve been, childhood full of sterile corridors and silent whitecoats, offering her arms for the electrodes exactly like he used to. He thinks of smashing glass, Mako pouring across white tiles, the screaming child he had been, forced down on medical beds with leather cuffs around his wrists. How he had dreamed of being able to fight back.

‘I know,’ he breathes. ‘I know.’   
  
Their faces are so close that his hair is beginning to stick to the wetness of her cheeks. His eyes flicker down to her mouth, how her lower lip hangs full and round, shining with tears and he can’t decide whether he wants to admonish her or act on the blazing admiration that she’s kindling in him.

‘You have every right to be angry, Aeris,’ he murmurs.

She frowns up at him. She was expecting him to scold her, to tell her that she’s ruining their whole mission again, but instead he’s telling her that he understands, that he accepts her reaction. It’s a validation no one has ever given her regarding her past – it has always been about ‘letting it go’, ‘putting it behind her’, implicit requests for her to tuck the ugliness of her grief away. But he’s not asking that. He’s gazing down at her as though her ugliness is something to admire. His fingers slide along her jawline, cupping her face, and his open mouth is at a mere hair’s-breadth from hers as he hesitates because there’s no time, they still have a job to do –  

She slides her arms around his neck, and pulls him closer.

Hollander’s presence in the room ahead has the both of them on alert, and he’s giddy as he presses his lips to hers, his tongue brushing hers as he kisses her deeply, urgently. Her pulse is racing as they give in to a moment of mindlessness, and they really shouldn’t because Hollander could wake up at any minute but the heat of his mouth on hers, the slow tenderness of it, and that clean, heady scent of leather that seems to cling to his skin even in civilian clothes, it’s so delicious compared to Hollander’s filth. The difference feels purifying, somehow – it’s making her rise up on her tiptoes to meet his embrace, her back automatically curving inwards so that her hips touch his.

One of his hands caresses the naked dip of her back, pressing the length of her body against his possessively and the sense of danger is intoxicating, the contours of his body tantalizingly hard under the flimsy layers of clothing. His breath on her bruised lips makes her shiver, goosebumps pricking her pale skin. And when they hear Hollander making some kind of groaning sound they both freeze, holding the air in their lungs as they listen and try their hardest not to make a sound. They’re looking at one another with such intensity that perhaps it’s good that they’re both wearing contacts – it adds at least one superficial layer to hide behind when all else has been stripped bare, from caution to emotional self-control.

Sephiroth tries to will himself to get on with their plan, but she’s holding onto him with an urgency that is making him strangely, wordlessly moved. There’s that angular pressure of her hips against his, the soft plain of her stomach against which he’s smothering his erection and those eyes, dark and glowing with some naked emotion, making him forget himself.

‘There’s a room,’ she stammers, heart in her throat. ‘A room with all the proof we need.’

She doesn’t know why she spoke up, because she doesn’t want him to stop – only, this is hardly the right time or place. He seems to come back to his senses too with the reminder of what they’re actually doing here. When he breaks away from her both of them are reeling, wondering what just happened and who started it. She’s cold and trembling against the wall as empty air replaces the crush of his body.

‘Show me,’ he says.

•  
  


‘I don’t know, sir,’ says the surveillance officer as Tseng leans over his desk, listening to the loud rock music in the headphones. ‘It might just be a one night stand, but… when she came in she was asking questions, and then he put music on and it’s just been this ever since. He’s never done something like this before.’

Tseng hums thoughtfully in response. ‘Send someone over,’ he says. ‘Be quick about it. Grab the girl when she gets out.’

  
•  
  


Aeris takes him to the open closet, shows him the inside. Sephiroth takes in the sheer volume of material. They speak in hushed voices, deciding on a plan of action. Sephiroth spied a garage on his way in, so the only feasible option they might have would be to load up Hollander’s car and make a run for it. He gives a Sleep materia to Aeris so that she can watch over Hollander while he goes downstairs. She takes the time to slip her dress back on as she glares down at the wreck, tensing every time he moves his head or groans in his sleep. When Sephiroth comes up again he’s got car keys in one hand, and they set about trying to find boxes and containers for the papers.

Both outlaws are acutely aware of each other’s presence as they work, both of them trying not to think of how their fingertips are throbbing with the absence of the other’s skin. Sephiroth stocks up the boxes and crates, casting Float on them before Aeris hauls them downstairs and into the garage. Aeris can hear nothing but her heartbeat the whole time, watching for any sign of awareness on Hollander’s part whenever she goes past the bedroom door. After the lurching abyss of self-doubt, the panic, and the rage – the thrill of the hunt returns again on top of the rest, and she realizes absently that this is probably how Snow had felt when she’d made a run for it with the blood in hand. Nervous, righteous, with veins brimming with so much adrenaline that someone could probably stick a tap in her arm and make energy drinks from it.

She’s on another trip down the stairs with a crate in her arms, when something catches her eye. She glances around herself at the dark entrance.

There’s a man standing in the darkness, his gun aimed straight at her face.

Her blood goes cold. She’s breathless as she stops, keeping her eyes riveted on the gun’s long silencer. He walks across the entrance, and in the moonlight she realises he’s wearing a blue suit. He presses the same switch as Hollander did earlier and the music turns abruptly off.

‘Put it down, ma’am.’

She does as he asks, listening desperately for any sign of Sephiroth moving around upstairs.

‘I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,’ the Turk says.

She’s been holding her breath so long it’s a wonder she hasn’t fainted yet. She steps towards him – but then he frowns, his expression shifting from smug dominance to fear as his arm moves. It bends as though against his will, and then he’s pressing the silencer against his own temple.

Aeris glances over her shoulder and Sephiroth is coming down the stairs, one hand held open as he Manipulates the Turk. She’s mad with relief as he comes beside her, standing close so he can murmur in her ear;

‘The place is bugged. Keep going. I’ll deal with him.’

Mindlessly she picks up a crate, walking past the Turk without quite believing that he won’t break out of his stasis. But Sephiroth holds him there, and she hears the Turk saying, ‘All clear. She was just a prostitute.’

When she comes back into the entrance, Sephiroth’s mouth is moving but it’s the Turk who speaks: ‘I’m bringing her to you. Over and out.’ Aeris watches as the Turk takes his earpiece out with his free hand, drops it on the floor and crushes it under his heel. And then Sephiroth makes him pull the trigger.

The gunshot is muffled by the silencer, barely louder than a cough. But his brains burst out, splattering across the floor with a violence that has Aeris clapping her hands over her mouth. She staggers over to the stairs, holding onto the bannister as she watches the Turk crumple to the floor. For a moment she wonders if it’s the first member of ShinRa that Sephiroth has willingly murdered, and if that means he believes what he’s heard tonight. But Sephiroth only turns around, jabbing at the air with two fingers in a silent order for them to keep going.

They have to step over the puddle of grime as they go back and forth between the closet and the car. Aeris has gone beyond panic – she’s entered a mindless zone where all that matters is that they get the job done. Once the secret room is emptied out, Sephiroth helps her heave Hollander into the correct position so that the poor sod might not choke on his own vomit during the night. Then he takes his partner’s hand - Aeris is in a daze, letting him pull her along, down the stairs, into the car, doors slamming shut around her. Sephiroth takes the time to rip off the number plates and then clicks a button on the wall. The garage door makes so much noise as it clanks and clatters to life, grinding its way up along the ceiling rails, that they may as well have stood outside with megaphones yelling ‘HEY! WE’RE ROBBING HOLLANDER!’ He joins her, sits at the wheel and turns the key in the ignition – she stares ahead frantically as the engine splutters to life, waiting for a squadron of Peacekeepers and Turks to bear down on them at any minute.

It’s only once Sephiroth has driven them out of the neighbourhood and into the next Sector that Aeris can breathe again. She lets the moon catches her eye, full and white as it hangs in the inky sky, and she latches onto it as she tries to slow her beating heart.

Neither of them has spoken a single word. The truth is, she’s not quite sure what to say, where to begin. Something’s clogging her up to the throat, some burning cocktail of fear and anger and heartache and she feels like if she were to tilt a little to one side, if she so much as slackens her spine, something will spill out of her – some kind of inappropriate sincerity, or an uncontrollable stream of tears all over again. And she can’t put Sephiroth through that – Gaia knows what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking after all of this.

The flowergirl tries to breathe normally, relaxing in the plush leather of the front seat and looking over at her partner. Sephiroth is staring ahead, one hand on the driver’s wheel, deep in thought. He seems to tense up ever so slightly when he notices her looking at him. Neither of them breaks the ice as they cross through the Sectors, so Aeris fishes her raw materia out of the purse and holds the crystal in her lap, concentrating on the soothing pulsation against her palms. Her chin drops a little in the silence as she clears out the muck of panic and opens her mind to the old language, the ever-comforting whispers of her ancestors, heartbeat slowing to a steady thrum as the adrenaline slowly dissipates. And she doesn’t notice Sephiroth glancing at her as she deepens her meditation, his wondering expression as he watches her commune with something that he has only heard of in myth. But he never interrupts, watching as she sinks further and further away from him, into a world that is accessible to no one but her.

 

• • •

 

The lights of his apartment building are too harsh after the obscurity in which they’ve been moving. With the help of the Float spell, they managed to load the elevator up with crates and computer parts, taking two trips to bring everything up from the underground garage to Sephiroth’s floor. Both of them blink like cats as they move through Sephiroth’s living room, setting everything down haphazardly over the coffee table and up against the wall, loose papers scattering and covering the hardwood as they move around.

It’s close to three am when they finish. Sephiroth takes the time to drive Hollander’s car away and into the riot zones before coming back by foot. When he opens the front door again, Aeris is kneeling in the middle of the crates, sorting loose papers back into their respective folders. She looks up at him, relief etched on her face as he closes the front door with a satisfying finality.

‘It’s done,’ he says.

‘What about the Turk?’ Aeris blurts out. ‘Hollander’s going to wake up to find his house in such a state – ’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Sephiroth says. ‘He won’t know what happened, nor who he invited to his house. And by the time they send in a team to investigate, I will have gone through all this and made my decision.’

Aeris breathes out, absently smoothing her ripped dress down her thighs. Then she gets up, excusing herself as she heads to the bathroom. It’s almost comforting to him, how familiar she seems to be with his apartment. It reminds him furtively of the first times he’d let Genesis and Angeal in here – how it had felt oddly like acceptance, for them to recline in his couch and be at ease among his belongings. He rubs his eyes – they feel like paper after spending so much time with contacts, so he joins her.

They both stand side by side in front of the mirror, fingertips pulling down the rims of their eyes as they pinch and prod at the thin plastic trapped in a broil of hot tears – Aeris can’t help smiling at the scene, however far she’s sunk in tonight’s marsh of emotions. When they turn their reddened eyes to one another it’s the first time they’ve really looked at each other since his body was imprinted on hers and there was nothing in her mind except the taste of his tongue and the impression that his lips were like cliff edges, making her giddy with vertigo every time she broke away.

His eyes regain their rusted complexity as he sets down his contacts, the limpid green speckled with imperfections, like wreaths of sienna ink curling in clear water. Her smiling has apparently had some soothing effect, because he’s saying something as he’s peeling the beanie off of his skull, and she tries to concentrate on his words through her haze of emotional exhaustion –

‘That’s the last time anyone is coming anywhere near me with contacts. Or make-up.’

Aeris’s smile widens. She reaches in her purse next to the sink and turns to face her partner with a sweet-smelling wipe in her hand. He gazes down at her as she reaches to scrub away the black from his face.

‘Whatever you might say about Genesis being good at this stuff,’ she says. ‘I’d wager he doesn’t look half as good as you do with eyeliner.’

He’s smiling, eyes shut as she rubs at difficult spots. ‘And how much would you wager, exactly?’

She finds herself grinning back. ‘That sounds like a trap.’

She’s scratching dried clots of black from his eyebrows with her fingernail once the rest is done, so he takes her wrist to stop her in her perfectionism, looking around at the mirror to find his real face restored. Aeris tries not to watch as she moves away and starts rubbing at her own face, but her eyes keep flickering to follow the movement of Sephiroth’s hands as they rise to his meticulously coiled hair, fingers sliding out the bobby pins one by one. His gestures have an odd reverence to them, as though he’s loath to destroy her work. When the long braids drop past his shoulders she absently thinks that when she made them up, he still didn’t know who she was – it’s as though all the secrets she was keeping from him are all there, tied up in those silver herringbone braids, and she’s hypnotized as he unravels one of them from the bottom upwards.

He’s watching her, watching him, and he’s halfway up when she breaks away.

‘Do you mind if I take a shower?’ she asks in a small voice. ‘I feel grimy.’

‘Of course,’ he says. He can only begin to guess what she might feel like, after allowing Hollander to slobber all over her. Absently he wonders if she might’ve done the same after bookings with him, scrubbed her skin raw to get rid of his touch. He steps to the bathroom door, giving her privacy as she shrugs off her dress.

  
When she comes back out, she’s wrapped up in the black silk night robe he’d hung up to the bathroom door, her hair still braided and coiled around her head. He’s got the three ancient computers hooked up to power, all of them crowding the coffee table – one keyboard is balanced on his knee as he navigates the glitchy software. She wanders over to the couch, settling down next to him as he continues typing.

‘You’re not going to go through the files now, are you?’ she asks sleepily. Her skin smells of vanilla and he’s acutely aware of her body as she leans against him, the silk sliding between them.

‘I just wanted to see if the computers are salvageable,’ Sephiroth tells her. ‘All three of them turn on, at least, but this one seems to get stuck on the welcome screen.’

‘You’ve been up for almost forty-eight hours, Sephiroth,’ she says. ‘You should probably get some sleep.’

He glances over at her, touched by her concern. Then he opens an arm so that she can lean against him properly, and she sighs as she rests her head against his shoulder. She seems to be aching for their earlier closeness as she relaxes against him. Aeris watches him typing his way through different menus for a while, yawning. Before she knows it her eyes are slowly closing though she’s trying her hardest to stay focused on the obscure files that are cluttering Sephiroth’s screen – she wants to keep up, she really does, but… it’s just so comfortable…

•

When she next regains consciousness, she’s lying down on her side; her arms are bent over a warm, firm surface, and she tries to piece together her body parts and figure out in what position she is as she keeps her eyes comfortably closed. There’s a warm weight on her shoulder, a sort of ridge following her ribs and weighing on her down to the waist… she tenses a little when she finally realizes that she’s half lying in Sephiroth’s lap, and he’s resting his arm on her flank as he keeps on searching, fingers absently playing over the skin of her naked shoulder – the night robe has pulled down a little. She feels a blush tickling her cheeks, but the embrace in itself is just so irresistibly cozy that she can’t just break it by moving. Her shoulder blades are pressed up against the warmth of his torso, and she finds herself smiling stupidly as she lies there – the negative thoughts haven’t had the time to return to her quite yet.

Sleep is courting the edges of consciousness, and she shifts a little, stretching out her neck – she opens her eyes in a crack when she feels Sephiroth’s fingers moving from her shoulder to her throat, caressing her skin so lightly that she can’t help shivering. His fingertips move over the elaborate curls of her practically airtight hairstyle, and he finds himself distractedly sliding the bobby pins out each time he encounters one, so that the coils of chestnut hair droop a little.

‘Have you got it to work yet?’ Aeris asks groggily.

‘Just about,’ he replies in the same husky voice, before heaving a sigh. ‘A lot of the files seem to be encrypted, and older computers are difficult to hack into. I don’t think I’ll be able to get very far tonight, I’ll have to get more material to be able to work on them.’

‘I might know some hackers down below,’ she offers, and she hears him scoffing.

‘I’m not sure this is the same ballpark in terms of encryption. And, this is very sensitive material, too.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Aeris sighs, not conscious enough to go on a tirade about how everyone underestimates slum dwellers right now. She can practically hear him smiling at her exasperation as he turns his attention completely to her hair – she shivers again as he delicately pulls out the pins, fingers following the fall of each heavy coil as her hair covers his lap.

‘I hope you know the consequences of you doing that,’ she says. ‘If you snag a single hair tonight you’ll be sorry.’

‘Oh, I’m fully aware of the consequences,’ he teases her, still smoothing out the long strands as the last of the pins come out. The intimacy of the gesture is making Aeris melt. She feels something hot expanding in her chest as she lets him touch her, absently snuggling a little against him.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asks him when he remains silent for a few minutes.

‘Oh – nothing of any immediate importance,’ he replies, apparently shaken out of a reverie.

‘Tell me.’

His thighs shift a little beneath her. ‘I don’t want to bring up the past any more than what’s necessary. You’ve had more than enough reminiscing for one night.’

‘Now you’re scaring me,’ Aeris smiles, though his words are making her heart beat a little faster; ‘What is it?’

Sephiroth sighs at her stubbornness, and at his own poor choice of words in trying to persuade her to drop it. ‘No, it’s nothing serious,’ he says. ‘Only that, the length of your hair… It reminds me of your mother.’

The warmth in her chest spreads to her entire body upon hearing that, and she pushes herself up so that she might look at him. She’s lost her smile, but it seems to have drifted to her eyes as he lets her catch his gaze. ‘You knew my mother?’

‘Not as well as I knew Gast,’ he replies softly. ‘But she would accompany him a lot during the last year of his service, so I saw her quite frequently.’

She seems to be searching his face for something, her eyes aglitter.

‘I wanted to ask, earlier,’ she says in the same hushed tone, as though both are too respectful of the dead to speak too loudly. ‘Who was he to you? My father?’

Sephiroth lets out a low exhale. ‘He was in charge of my education, my… rearing. Everything that didn’t concern military grooming was his domain – everything that required a hint of humanity, really. Gast made sure I never felt neglected as a child.’

‘He was like your foster father, then?’ She’s halfway between admiration at the selflessness of her father, and a silly jealousy that she might have to share him with anyone else. Though, the idea of having this unknown bond that could’ve made her the General’s _sister_ still feels completely unreal.

‘I suppose you could say that,’ Sephiroth says. He seems to realize something as he gazes at her. He gets up. ‘Come with me. I want to show you something.’

Aeris follows him as he strides to his bedroom. He leaves the lights off and goes to rummage in his drawers in the blue neon light from outside. She sits on the bed, hands in the furs, and when he returns to her he has what looks like a shoebox in his hands. The mattress sinks as he sits beside her on one bent leg, setting the box down between them and removing the lid.

‘We had a regular correspondence for one or two years,’ he explains as he retrieves a sheet of paper from the jumbled pile of cards and letters that the box contains. Aeris finds that she can no longer breathe as he passes her the paper, her fingers sliding reverently over the sheet that her own father had leant over. The handwriting isn’t particularly elegant, as to be expected of a scientific mind – she looks up at the General, her eyes hot as she tries to ask permission to read it but can’t get the words out.

‘Go ahead,’ he says softly. ‘Read it, I don’t mind.’

He’s looking in the shoebox for something else as she tries to make out the sentences, and a few minutes later he draws something out, attracting her attention again. Both of them are mute with a shared nostalgia as he holds an old, faded photograph in his fingers. They share a gaze, Aeris’ heart heavy as she hesitates to look. It’ll be the same pain anyway, won’t it – whether she looks or not – she’d been too young when she’d lost him to remember anything more than scenes, snippets of a shared life, vague sensations of smooth hands and the bristles of a beard.  

‘I’m sorry,’ she lets out, rubbing away the tears and dropping the letter she’d been holding so as not to smudge the ink. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been blubbering all night – ’

‘Aeris,’ Sephiroth baritones, reaching to pry one of her hands away from her face and holding onto it tightly. ‘Don’t apologize for that.’

The cool surface of the photo is against her fingers as he hands it to her, but her eyes remain strung to his. ‘It’s just,’ she manages to whisper, ‘I don’t remember what he looks like.’

Her words reach into him, squeezing something that has only very rarely been touched. Wordlessly, he nods. Then her fingers tighten on his, and she finally finds the strength to look at the photo.

They’re together, Ifalna and Gast, holding hands just like these two grown children who constitute their legacy. Aeris can hardly make out her father’s features as the tears fall freely down her face. She slides her hand out of Sephiroth’s in order to wipe them away, and his chest grows hot as he watches a smile slowly curling her lips, pushing apart her tear-slick cheeks. He can remember sitting by the wood stove where he’d burnt one or two of Gast’s letters, holding that particular photo in his hands and hesitating. He wonders if, intuitively, he’d withheld from burning it because he knew he might not be the only one to appreciate the reminder of Gast’s existence, further down the line. He feels the childish tug of jealousy, the inappropriate yearn to keep Gast to himself, and he hasn’t felt that way about Gast in so long – with fierce immediacy like this – that it only makes him smile.

After struggling to look at them, now Aeris can’t seem to rip her eyes away from the glowing faces of her parents, and Sephiroth finds himself telling her to keep it. It seems like the most obvious and natural thing in the world now, that he should’ve held onto it so that he might one day give it to the only other person to whom it would hold so much importance. She finally looks at him, her eyes shining. He can tell that she’s trying to say thank you, but there are too many words struggling to come out at once.

‘I don’t want to take this if it’s your only keepsake,’ she manages.

‘I have others,’ he tells her. ‘Other things that remind me of him. You’re his daughter. You should have it.’

She looks at the photo again, fingers tracing the faded figures of her parents.

‘How long did you know him?’ she asks quietly.

Sephiroth leans back on his arms, tilting his head back as he sinks into his memories. ‘I think he left when I was… around seven?’

Aeris sniffs, wiping her nose on her wrist. ‘You had two more years with him than I did, then.’

Sephiroth stays quiet, wondering absurdly if he should apologize. He only knows bits and pieces of Gast’s Northern life, thanks to the letters he received at the time. He remembers picturing scenes, Gast guiding his infant daughter across his colourful living room rug, one hand holding her puffy little palm up while she took her first steps. It’s so difficult to reconcile those images with the woman sitting beside him. When he tries, he only feels a shattering inside him, cold shards clamping around his chest.

‘I have this memory of awful brown sleeveless jumpers,’ Aeris says, hiccupping a little. ‘With big criss-crosses over them. What do you call that? Cable-knitting?’

‘Oh yes,’ Sephiroth agrees. ‘Gast and his infamous jumper collection. I remember that.’

‘So I didn’t dream it up then,’ Aeris says with a laugh.

‘No, he was a pinnacle of eighties fashion.’

‘Did he always have this handlebar mustache, as well?’

‘Mm. Well, except for this one time – they had made some kind of bet at the labs. There was a team back then, I remember, they were all younger and… there was just such a different atmosphere. I think the bet was about how long it would take for these two people in the DNA splicing team to get together. There was a lot of personal drama back in those days. So Gast ended up losing and had to shave off half the mustache. And he wandered around the HQ for a whole day with this lopsided lick of fuzz under his nose – ’

Aeris laughs as she tries to picture it, helping her imagination by staring down at the photo again. She places a finger on the mustache, tilts her head to try and see his face without it.

Sephiroth finds himself telling her as much as he can, the winters spent with Gast, the trips, what he remembers of the friendship between the three head scientists. The story Gast had told him about how he had met Ifalna. Aeris is holding onto his every word as he recalls the tale of the bright student standing outside of his lecture hall, who wasn’t really a student at all but who greatly admired his research on Cetra and wanted to contribute. He details their little habits, the way she’d leave notes tucked in his pockets, the way Gast would look at her like she was the still point of the turning world. Aeris has never felt this content – like there’s a warm glow in her chest, throbbing in time with her heart. 

‘Did you ever talk to her?’ Aeris asks. They’re sitting cross-legged in front of one another now, Aeris sorting through the papers in the box, laying out the ones she wants to read.

‘No, not really,’ Sephiroth says. Then he tilts his head apologetically. ‘I have to admit, I didn’t like her very much. I felt like she was stealing him away.’

‘Oh, you had attachment issues?’ Aeris teases him, and he smirks.

‘I was a child,’ he says. ‘She was always very patient with me though. I remember her signing the letters sometimes – let me try to find them.’

He joins her in the sorting, fingers brushing hers over old paper. Then he finds one, holds it up, and Aeris feels her mouth go dry as she sees the gorgeous Cetra glyph that’s drawn on the bottom of the letter, perfectly central, like a stamp.

‘Is that – ’ she whispers, reaching for the paper. ‘Is that her name?’

‘I don’t know. I could never read anything she wrote. Gast would get exasperated about how she refused to write even an alphabet or any kind of guide to decipher her glyphs.’

Aeris shakes her head as she takes the paper. ‘Of course there’s no alphabet. Each glyph is unique.’

She presses the paper down between them. The labyrinthine lines of her mother’s glyph remind her of the things Ifalna would tell her from the lifestream, the lessons she would give her daughter as Aeris grew up. Images of fine inkwork blooming in Aeris’s mind, persuading her to take her emotions out in drawings, infusing them with intention. The emotion would stay there, saturating the lines, and when she would place her hand over them, the things she’d tucked into those lines would jump out at her again.

It wasn’t something she’d kept up. Being the only one capable of ‘reading’ the glyphs was discouraging, only accentuating her loneliness, and she would only take up glyph-drawing with specific intentions. Some of the charms that she’d made for the Bee girls had glyphs on them, saturated with the intention they needed –erotic appeal, patience to last through the night, or anxiety-soothing properties. Whether or not they worked was wholly debatable, as the girls were superstitious enough to claim that anything worked, from Cetran charms to lucky pairs of thongs.

Breathlessly, Aeris presses her hand over her mother’s glyph and closed her eyes. Sephiroth watches her as she lifts her chin, a shiver running through her body as the words bloom in her mind. The glyph pulls her into a forest soaked in the yoke of a setting sun, with birdsong and a warm, pillowing air. The accents of gold and sweetness pull her back into the comfort of her mother’s voice, and in that moment she longs for her so much that she can’t even speak.

‘This isn’t her name,’ Aeris murmurs at long last. ‘She was wishing you well, hoping your anxiety would go away.’

‘Mm.’ Sephiroth glances down at the contents of the letter. ‘This was after a massacre I told Gast about, I remember. I wasn’t in a good place. But how – how did you read that? Is it like some kind of braille?’

Aeris shakes her head.

‘It’s difficult to explain,’ she says. ‘Our language isn’t really made up of words, it’s more… intuitive. It can be dreams, it can be feelings, it can be colours and urges and sudden morning revelations.’

‘It’s like a form of telepathy, then?’

‘Mm. I suppose so.’

 ‘So there isn’t a language in the sense that scholars understand – with grammatical structure and any type of lexical semantics?’

Aeris looked up at him, her eyes twinkling with a playfulness that he’s glad to see returning.

‘We don’t need all that to put our meaning across,’ she says. ‘Our grammar is more sensory. Instead of hearing a sound and associating it to a meaning, with Cetran language, you’re appealing to all five senses to describe something. So if you want to say ‘calm down’, you’ll send the person the kind of sensory stimulation that will calm them down – a song, a context, a perfume.’

Sephiroth frowns. ‘I wonder if that might not take away from the precision of what you’re trying to say, rather than add to it.’

Aeris shakes her head. ‘There are misunderstandings in any language. I’d say verbal languages can be just as clumsy, since you’ve only got sounds to describe how you’re feeling. At least with the Cetran tongue you can directly make the person feel what you want them to feel, if you choose your sensorial bouquet right.’

Sephiroth is drinking up her words.

‘So, when applied to writing,’ he says slowly, and she explains to him how the glyphs are infused with intention and read telepathically.

‘Here, see for yourself,’ she says, before taking his hand and making it hover over Ifalna’s glyph.

‘I won’t be able to read it.’

Aeris smiles at him softly. ‘I think you have the capacity to.’ She wants to add, _after all, you spoke Cetra to me once,_ but it would bring up the question of Jenova’s influence and she doesn’t want to spoil a single second of this moment.

Before he can protest, she presses his hand down on the glyph. He’s smiling at her, half-heartedly trying to win his hand back, but she won’t let go. She stares at him in the blue lights, telling him to relax, close his eyes, and open his mind. Still smiling, he does as she says, shaking his head all throughout.

‘This isn’t going to work.’

‘Well not with that attitude.’

After a few seconds he’s sitting still, and she watches him, his hand growing warm between hers as she holds him down. It should scare her that the only reason he can speak Cetra at all is because of the alien residing inside him, but she’s too excited at the prospect of being able to talk to a real live person again to care. Slowly, he rolls his shoulders into a shrug, relaxing his posture as though something might be shuddering through him.

‘Are you feeling something?’ Aeris asks, giddy with anticipation.

‘Mm. Maybe… a smell of… paper?’

The excitement falls again. ‘You mean the paper that we just filled your flat with.’

Sephiroth smirks. ‘No, I mean… the smell of trees. Sap and old pine needles.’

Her heart starts galloping. ‘Yeah? What else?’

He shakes his head. ‘I have no idea if I’m just making this up.’

‘Tell me anyway.’

‘I don’t know, I’m thinking… yellow, the colour yellow?’ His eyes crack open. ‘This is pointless, it’s just my imagination feeding me whatever comes to mind – ’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Aeris says, breathless. ‘You were on the right track.’

He tilts his head at her as though to say, _don’t push it._ So Aeris asks if he’s got any more glyph-stamped letters, any more that they can both try to read, and they’re sorting through the letters again, giddy as children. After a moment of her drinking in her mother’s intentions and then testing his illiteracy, she’s hit by an idea, and asks him if he has an Enemy Skill materia that she can infuse with the ability.

‘I’m not sure you can cram a whole language into an Enemy Skill materia,’ he says as he gets up and heads to his study to get it. Aeris calls at him that it’s more about the capacity of having waking dreams, of taking a shortcut instead of reaching it through hard work and meditation. He comes back with the purple orb, lets it roll into her hands, and for a moment they both have to consciously ignore the callback to the New Year’s that the materia creates. Aeris sits there, cradling the orb, and Sephiroth sits down next to her, gazing at her as she infuses the materia. He doesn’t really understand what it is that is tying them together, but he can feel how heavy it is, how enormously important, and for the first time in his life he is desperately grateful to have found someone to share such a burden with. He only wishes that the sight of her wouldn’t spear him through with guilt and shame, that he could enjoy this moment fully without their shared past looming over him.

‘Aeris,’ he says at long last, placing his hand over hers to win back her attention. ‘We should really sleep.’

She glances up at him. ‘Just give it a try,’ she says as she hands him the materia. ‘OK, I’m going to say something to you. Ready?’

Sephiroth smiles as he holds the orb and obligingly taps into it. He holds her gaze as she stares at him. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, what he’s supposed to be feeling as seconds trickle by. Then – he breathes in as he’s pulled into an invisible, transparent world. He sees a glass wall run through by a web of crackles, steadily growing until it shatters in a crystalline hail, and there’s the sound of running, of laughter, and the sun beating down on his face. There is the distinct feeling of arms around his body, of hands squeezing his, and he sees them both as children kneeling in a sunny field that smells of drifting pollen. In the pit of his stomach he feels the giddiness of overcoming something, of helping someone out of their glass cage – and somehow he understands, even in the whirl of dream-like sensations, what she’s trying to say.

‘Thank you?’ he says, and his throat is growing tight. ‘You’re saying thank you?’

Aeris is smiling up to her ears as she watches him figure it out, and she grasps his wrists. ‘Yes! Did you feel it all? Did you see the images?’

He nods, unable to share her glee as his shame overcomes the rest. ‘I did.’

‘Try saying something back to me.’

He gently prizes her hands off of him. ‘It’s probably close to five now, Aeris. You should get some rest before the sun comes up.’

 He gets up in a sweep of loose white hair and she seems confused as she watches him move away. ‘You’re not staying?’ she asks.

One hand on the door, he looks back at her with a faint smile. ‘The couches are perfectly comfortable.’

It seems ludicrous for him to mark a distance after what they’d been through all day. She opens her mouth to protest, perhaps even remind him of how he’d said nothing could get between him and his fox furs. But something about how he turns away, his expression withdrawn, allows her to guess why he’d want to give her space.

‘Goodnight, then,’ she calls after him.

‘Don’t stay up reading,’ he calls back, and the door shuts.  
  


• • •


	25. Chapter 25

• • •  
  


The quiet rage has been building, the disgust in himself, until he can’t even concentrate on reading or clicking through computer files. Obtaining and sorting through this information was the entire point of the evening, but he can’t get her out of his head, can’t get rid of the sour taste of bile in his mouth. He starts pacing, cutting a dark silhouette against the glittering lights of Midgar’s nightscape. He’s frowning at the floorboards, arms around himself as he remembers what happened there. Her body, bruised and bleeding, her hands against his shoulders. That look of terror as she realised what he intended to do. And the vile, monstrous thing he had done. Again and again. The feeling of watching crimson canopies blooming under her skin, the feeling of her tense as a bowstring, reacting to his every touch, his every breath. He had treated her like a thing to enjoy, a victim to torture.

Sensory grammar, she’d called it. Saying something by appealing to the five senses. What had he been telling her, with the language of nails and teeth and dry, ripped skin? What had she understood from underneath the crush of his body, from within the tightening circle of his hands, his belt, his precious control?

He can’t stand it. The reality of what he’s done. He paces back and forth, back and forth, as though walking over the space he’d ravaged her might make the memory fade away. There are so many things to share now, so many things he could enjoy with her that he had never suspected, and yet he’s cut off from it all – he cut himself off when he brutalized her beyond hope of redemption.  

The night sky is beginning to grow a dreary grey when the bedroom door opens. He turns to face the windows just as Aeris timidly steps into the living room.

‘You’re still up?’ she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, staring resolutely out at the grey dawn breaking over Midgar. ‘Can’t sleep,’ he says.

‘Me neither,’ she says as she steps across the living room. ‘My brain just won’t quit.’

He’s still got his arms around himself, and Aeris realises he’s frowning as he stares outside, his eyes shining. When she comes up to him he gives a sigh, closing his eyes, and she sees tears break from his lashes, running freely down to his jaw.

‘Sephiroth?’ she asks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.

She reaches out, places a hand on his arm. Her heart is beating heavily as she realises what he’s apologizing for. She waits for him to look at her, to say it outright. And he does – he turns his head, red-rimmed eyes catching hers.

‘I’m sorry I hurt you. That day. After the hospital.’

She’s been waiting for that apology for so long, but she never prepared herself for when he would actually give it. So she just stares up at him, unable to hold that tearful gaze without feeling watery-eyed herself. He wipes away the tear tracks, his hands trembling as he tucks them by his sides again, and the corner of her mouth flickers upward as she watches him.

‘Thank you for apologizing,’ she says. She takes one of his hands, and he stretches his arm out stiffly as he allows her to. They both watch, mutely occupying the same space as her fingers lace through his.

‘I’ve been trying to understand why,’ he goes on. ‘If you want me to explain, I can try as best I can.’

‘I think I already know why,’ she says. He looks at her, partway between reluctance and curiosity. ‘You use sex to say _no._ When there’s a situation you can’t control, when you can’t get someone to agree with you. You just… say no.’

Sephiroth lets out a breath through his nose, almost like laughter as he gazes at her.

‘Was it always that obvious to you?’ he asks thickly.

‘You aren’t the only one who uses sex for something else than what it’s intended for.’

‘You mean reproduction?’

She laughs. ‘No. The other stuff.’

He turns to face her, head bowed. ‘Relieving boredom?’ he offers, though his tone has turned playful.

‘Don’t make me say it,’ Aeris says. ‘You know what I mean.’

Both of their eyes stay down for a moment as the obvious answer remains unsaid. Then Aeris finally says, ‘You know… I’m not all innocent either.’

‘Tonight already taught me that lesson,’ Sephiroth says, but Aeris shakes her head.

‘When I Enticed you,’ she starts, heart thumping. Sephiroth’s gaze is heavy on her as she tries to get the words out. Maybe it’s stupid, maybe she’ll break this moment with too much sincerity – but she doesn’t know when a better opportunity will come up to lay it all out, to finally be on the same page. ‘I had a mission.’

Sephiroth frowns at her. ‘Oh?’

‘It was meant to be your blood they tested,’ Aeris says. ‘Instead of Genesis’s. So seeing as they knew I was already seeing you, they… asked me to deliver.’

His hand slips out of hers, and her breath hitches in her throat as she looks at his expression. She can’t tell if he’s surprised or angry. ‘It didn’t work,’ she adds quickly. ‘I mean – Genesis caught wind of it and wouldn’t let them use your blood. That’s why got he got caught up in it in the first place. To protect you.’

This new angle seems to soften whatever reaction was beginning to build inside him. ‘So when you accepted me to see me again,’ he says. ‘It was always with that in mind?’

Wordlessly, she nods. She can’t look at him when she says, ‘I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t. I just… I was angry at you for a long time.’

He turns back to the windows, frowning as he processes this new information. Aeris is twisting the silk belt of her night gown as she waits for him to give her a verdict. She’s fully expecting him to tell her to get her things and get out, but he only says, ‘I didn’t realise I had placed so much trust in you. It’s… strange to feel something break without realising it was even there.’

The words hurt, perhaps moreso because of how emotionally detached they are than if he’d been angry. Aeris looks over at the windows, following his gaze as her heart pounds patterns of guilt and grief against her ribs.

‘Whatever you use sex for, there’s always going to be trust involved,’ Aeris says. ‘We’re both putting ourselves in vulnerable positions, whether we’re the dominant or submissive one.’

‘And I broke your trust first,’ he murmurs, as though coming to his own conclusions about her actions. ‘Do you feel like that makes us even?’

‘To be honest it all just makes me feel horrible.’

He glances down at her then, the way she’s standing with the silk belt between her hands, loose hair falling messily down to her waist and looping around her neck. Green eyes averted, she asks, ‘Do you think we can still be OK?’

He sighs. He has no idea what he feels, between the disgust in himself and this new realisation that she might’ve acted just as ruthlessly against him. But when he looks at her he can’t shake the memory of the earlier revelation, how she’d melted against him for comfort, both of them clutching each other while the delicate house of cards that had been his reality crumbled around him.

He wants that. He knows this as he looks at her – he wants that comfort again. For them to be able to reach for each other and know they’ll find sanctuary. He takes her hand, squeezes it, and she looks up at him.

‘I think we can,’ he murmurs.

She smiles faintly and nods, shifting a long chunk of chestnut hair over one shoulder with her free hand. Both of them stand there in silence for a moment, before she asks; ‘If it’s OK with you… would you mind coming to bed with me?’

Sephiroth smiles. ‘After everything we’ve been talking about, do you really think that’s a good idea?’

‘I just don’t want to be alone,’ she mutters. ‘Not after today.’

His fingers tighten around hers. If he’s perfectly honest with himself, he feels exactly the same. Not deserving company, but aching for it. She backs away, pulling him after her with a shy smile, and he can’t resist that open, candid expression. He lets her lead him to the bedroom, his feet dragging as he realises this is the first time she’s asked him for anything, physically speaking, even if it’s just his presence in the room.

She burrows under the covers while he sits on the edge of the bed, pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his trousers in the semi-obscurity. It’s nothing new, being barely dressed in each other’s presence, but after the day they’ve had Aeris almost feels like it’s a stranger who’s turning towards her, lifting the heavy fur covers to slide underneath. His body heat, the weight of his limbs pulling down the mattress – it’s a comfort she didn’t realise she’d been so starved for. She curls against his body with a sigh of relief, and they shift for more comfort until they’re facing another, legs coiled together, her head settled under his chin while he smooths her long hair away from her shoulders.

Her night gown is all askew, her bare shoulder jutting out of its midnight folds, the hem falling away from her thighs so that she can feel his naked leg between hers. Her heartbeat sounds so loud in the darkness as she closes her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingertips combing her hair back. She feels almost dead from exhaustion, but her mind is still on high alert, thoughts whirring incoherently, pulling her away from sleep every time she starts to succumb. Even her body feels restless as he absently presses his thigh further between hers, steadily relaxing into the embrace. He’s still awake too, still mechanically combing back her hair, as though he’s just as alert as her.

‘Can I ask you something?' Sephiroth murmurs at one point, his voice husky with exhaustion. She nods against his chin. 'You said you only accepted to continue seeing me because you had a mission. So why did you accept to see me this afternoon?’

Aeris tightens her grip on him. ‘I told you. I wanted to.’

He stays silent as he takes this in, his hand wandering down from her hair to stroke the back of her neck.

‘I knew I’d enjoy it, with the mindset I was in. Even though it’s not… what I usually like,’ Aeris adds. He hums in response, fingers tightening around her neck. Then she asks, ‘Have you ever tried that?’

Sephiroth’s eyes have drifted shut as he listens to her; ‘Tried what?’

‘Sex for pleasure,’ she murmurs, heart in her throat as she manages to get those words out in his presence. ‘Just… the normal vanilla stuff.’

He draws back so he can look down at her, and there’s self-consciousness in the smirk he gives her. ‘I think you know the answer to that,’ he says.

‘You’ve never tried it?’

‘I just… I don’t think it would have the expected effect on me.’

‘So you don’t think you’d enjoy it.’

‘Aeris,’ he deadpans. ‘Wherever you’re going with this, it’s still dawn and we both need sleep.’

Aeris smiles at him, and for a moment their gazes lock. She would never have expected to feel this way for him, to yearn for more of this rare intimacy, but something was broken off when he kissed her against that wall earlier and she’s been aching to go back to it ever since. To feel just as wrapped up as that kiss had made her feel. He breathes in as he watches her, understanding her intentions. She manages to look shy and hungry all at the same time, mossy eyes flicking down to his lips as she allows herself to be the instigator. Black silk slipping from her naked shoulder, Aeris straddles his thighs, and for once he’s the one with his head tilted back as he looks up at her.

‘Aeris,’ he admonishes her. His hands are trembling as he places them on her silk-clad waist, slipping a little on the cold fabric. But she only gazes down at him, her loose hair tumbling down her shoulders and tickling the corners of her mouth.

‘Let me try something,’ she murmurs. ‘And if you want me to stop, just say ‘red’.’

He only watches her, heart thumping uncomfortably hard as she slips the silk belt of her night gown out of its rungs and pulls his wrists together to tie them. She’s gentle as she loops the black silk into an immaculate double-column tie, effectively cuffing his hands together. He wonders for a moment where she even learned to do something like that – before remembering that she isn’t lacking the friends or working environments to learn from. When she pulls the cuffs up to the bedframe, lifting his arms in the process, he breathes in, eyes focused on her throat and the way the night gown is steadily slipping open, rather than his growing anxiety. She’s leaning close to him as she ties the silk around the metal rungs, and when she draws back again her face is inches from his, eyes hooded as she gazes down at him.

‘Not too tight?’ she whispers, apparently just as nervous as he is.

‘No,’ he murmurs.

It’s bizarre for him to stay soft like this even with her straddling him, wearing nothing but a silk night gown, the soft downy lips of her sex sliding over the contours of him. But he’s too caught up in the way she’s looking at him, like she’s seeing him for the first time, devouring the contours of his face, the lines of his throat. Her fingertips trace the contours of his brow, his cheekbones, coming down to his jawline. Like she’s discovering him. And he realises as his skin prickles up around that feathery contact, that it’s the first time he’s let her touch his face, caress him like this. Her hands come up to his hairline, raking his hair back over his head, and he closes his eyes, letting his head rock back as that familiar tingle runs down his spine.

Her lips are by his neck, butterfly kisses making him shiver. She trails her lips along his jaw, ghosting over his open mouth and hesitating on the brink. She’s breathing against his parted lips, and his eyes stay closed as he concentrates on the fleeting contact of each exhale. Then her mouth melts over his and he gives a soft moan, head digging into the pillows, letting her tongue sink into his mouth as she grinds a little against his cock. He can feel himself stirring, but he’s never done it this way around, it feels all lopsided, the arousal lurching through him in unfamiliar patterns.

Aeris breaks off the kiss, and they breathe against one another softly in the semi-obscurity.

‘Is this alright?’ she murmurs, and neither can quite look at the other, their faces so close that both can feel the exact frequency of the other’s breaths.

‘Yes.’

He doesn’t know whether it’s fear or excitement that he’s feeling when she starts kissing her way down his throat and chest. Her mouth hovers over one nipple and her hand cups his semi-hard cock as she lets her hot breath play over the puckered bud. He watches her, anticipating the contact, and he can’t help thinking about Genesis and the hunger of his touch, the rough, hurried quality of it. And he groans when she bites down, rocking his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as the contact spears right down his body, making his cock twitch more earnestly.

Shuffling a little, she kneels between his naked thighs, kissing her way down to the crease of his thigh, achingly close to his cock. He watches her, eyes heavy-lidded, wondering at this role reversal, the way she seems fascinated by each part of his body that she discovers, touching him freely for once. Her eyes flicker up to his in the growing light of dawn as she lowers her mouth to his cock, and when those warm wet lips close around him he lets out a sigh, holding her gaze with difficulty as she sucks him into her mouth. He would never have guessed how different it would feel, with her being in control, deciding the rhythm, deciding when to break off and use her hand while exploring the delicate skin beneath, digging her tongue into tender places that have him moaning helplessly as he lets his body sink into helpless arousal. And it’s not the usual animalistic urge to use something until relief is found – she’s doing this for him, she’s leading him up the crescendo at her own pace, she’s _with_ him in a way he never allowed her to be before.

She climbs back up his body once he’s hard and throbbing in her hand, her mouth finding his, and their kisses are sloppy with need as he lifts his chin, aching for more contact. Then she shifts, presses her burning centre against his erection and they’re both panting in anticipation as she slowly rubs herself along the length of his cock, breathing against his mouth as they both bask in the moment.

‘Let me touch you,’ he murmurs, and he feels her smile against him.

‘Not yet,’ she whispers back, breathless as she grinds against him. It’s building much faster now that she’s in control – she feels so full of something quivering and uncontrollable that if she stops now she’ll fall apart. Her mouth is open against his when she reaches the peak, and she cries out, squeezing her eyes shut – and he kisses her, swallows her moans, tastes the edges of the sunburst on her raw, puffy lips.

It ignites something deep within him, the fact that she might share something as intimate as her own climax with him. The fact that they might share pleasure instead of pain. His eyes are tangled in a thousand indifferences when he looks up at her, as if he’s casting around for bits and pieces of the façade that he broke beyond repair when he invited her over that afternoon. She only smiles down at him, her cheeks pink, her expression beautifully unselfconscious as she rides the last waves. Then the head of his cock is against the silken dips of her entrance and she lets him slide inside her, slowly, easing into her through the syrup of her arousal. 

She rides him slowly at first, savouring the control she has over their pace. With every ripple of her body, he catches glimpses of that feral queen he saw earlier – that foreign, unknowable woman, and to have the permission to be with her, to _know_ her, makes him far more breathless than when he had tied ribbons around her eyes and forced her to submit. He finds that he can’t take his eyes off her, the sight of her leaning back, night gown gaping to reveal the rosy peaks of her breasts, her hair like a shredded shawl covering her shoulders, giving her the air of a grinning dryad as she quickens the pace. His gaze falls to the milky skin of her clavicles, the soft light of dawn gleaming on her naked breasts and he needs to touch her – to give her as much as she’s giving him.

‘Aeris,’ he murmurs, and she gazes down into his glowing eyes. ‘Untie me.’

Smiling, she reaches for the silk cuffs, undoes them with trembling hands. As soon as he’s free he slides his hands into her open night gown, holding her closer against him, too engrossed in the moment to want to topple her over. He pushes them both up into a sitting position so that he can trail his mouth down her neck, along the mounds of her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue while she holds his head against her and sighs. Her hands are tangled in the heavy weight of his hair, keeping it away from her front so that not even a strand might obstruct the contrast of their bodies, her soft as flour against his own rugged hardness. She’s playing with the angles of her hips, trying to find a position that would let him sink as deep as possible, and when she finds it she cries out, nails digging into his skin. He holds her hips as she rolls them against him, encouraging her movements, and when they look at each other again she’s grinning, drunk with pleasure, and his lips break into a smile as he gazes at her expression.

There’s something throbbing in his chest when she leans her forehead against his, something he recognises from when he’d held Genesis against him, grappling for some deeper meaning through the mindless throes of sex. But here it’s clearer – it’s so much clearer to him that he can feel heat rising to his eyes, breaking from the rims in long wet lines. She rubs his tears with her thumbs, nudging her lips to his, uttering a soft, concerned sound.

He whispers something, and she doesn’t hear it, rather – she decrypts it from the way his lips move against hers; ‘This is good.’

And when she clasps him tighter, kissing the corners of his mouth, he says it again in a tearful gasp; ‘This is really good.’

Her hands are shaking when he kisses them, but she smiles playfully when he bites down, when he pins her beneath him, because she isn’t frightened any more – she’s only as disbelieving as he is, that they might allow themselves to be equal. In theory, in principle, they always have been; but these things can never be dictated by principles, it’s always a question of body language, of the animalistic recognition of another’s domination.  And even when she’s on her belly in the furs and he’s taking her slowly from behind, body flattened over her back with his elbows on either side of her, it isn’t domination – he’s breathing against her with as much abandon as she is, and when she threads her fingers through his he moves to cradle her, forearms bunching with the effort of supporting himself enough not to crush her.

The sound of him sighing unselfconsciously, throwing caution and the vanity of self-image to the wind as she brings him towards climax is impossibly sweet to her ears; she’s smiling as he rests his forehead against her shoulder, her back tingling with the sensation of his skin brushing across hers with every movement. She thinks she hears her name, falling brokenly from his lips as he thrusts into her at an aching rhythm, trying to draw it out for as long as possible. And his fingers contract between hers as he groans against her skin, his voice sounding deliciously wretched as he thrusts deep inside her, spilling his seed into her welcoming depths. She lifts her head a little as she listens, arching her hips up to better accommodate him, breathless in the wake of what his voice is kindling in her.

They remain immobile, panting as she relishes the crush of his body and he succumbs to the drowsiness that bears down on him. Both are trembling, bodies raw with sincerity. And he wraps an arm around her as they drift into unconsciousness, neither of them willing to let each other go just yet.

 

• • •

 

They’ve barely slept for an hour when the sound of a ringing phone jolts them awake. Aeris lifts her head, mutters a groggy string of sounds that is nowhere near coherence as Sephiroth turns over and grabs his phone from the bedside table.

‘They’re expecting me at the riots,’ he grumbles.

Aeris throws back an arm, manages to latch a hand onto his thigh in protest of him leaving. So he leans over her, kissing her throat and making her groan with satisfaction.

‘I told you we should’ve slept,’ he says. ‘Come on. I’m making coffee.’

 

Aeris is sitting at the kitchen counter, barely aware of what her name is as she blinks blearily and pulls down the sleeves of her sweater. Her civilian clothes are far warmer than what she wearing last night but she’s still chilly from sleep deprivation. When Sephiroth puts down a mug of coffee in front of her, she practically wraps around it like a long lost lover.

Sephiroth grins at her complete gracelessness. He’s standing on the other side of the counter from her, wearing nothing but leather trousers, braiding his hair with tired fingers as he gazes at her.

‘I’m not sure if this is something I should be asking, but…’ he starts, and Aeris perks up.

‘What?’

‘We still haven’t discussed a price for yesterday afternoon,’ he tells her, softly, like he doesn’t want to offend her by bringing up the notion of money. And she feels a pang as she realises how unprofessional she’d been when she’d showed up at his door, not even asking for the money upfront. Then again, she doesn’t actually feel like he owes her something, like he took something from her that she wouldn’t have given without payment.

Still. Whatever happened this morning, yesterday afternoon had been an actual booking. And there was the emotional labour she went through with Hollander, too. She looks up at him.

‘I’m just missing an ID card,’ she says. ‘That’s the last thing I need before I can start the process of moving Upworld. A friend of mine told me what papers you need for that, and I think I’d need some bribe money – I’ve got papers attesting to the fact that I have a house, papers showing that I’m legally adopted, all that. But they needed a birth certificate too, which I obviously don’t have.’

Sephiroth nods as he listens to her. He’s never helped anyone move out of the slums, so with every document he’s helped her get, he’s been learning just how much of an administrative clusterfuck the whole process is. One detail stands out to him, so he asks,

‘You’re legally adopted?’

‘Yeah,’ Aeris says as she sips her coffee. ‘I took my adoptive mother’s name for the rest of the papers, so I guess I’ll stamp it on the ID too, make it official.’

 ‘What is it?’

‘Gainsborough.’

He tests it, letting it roll on his tongue; ‘Aeris Gainsborough.’ He wonders if he enjoys saying that name as much as she did when she first officially used it for her bank account. Perhaps he enjoys shaking the fog from her shoulders just as much as she enjoys asserting herself in the real world, the world of papers and identities and official records. Somewhere she can actually exist, beyond the whispers of an ancient, long-forgotten era.

She goes on, haltingly; ‘I figured it wouldn’t be very prudent to register everything with my real parents’ name. I still don’t know if I’ll be allowed to keep the official status of Upworld citizen, or if ShinRa would wipe me off the record once they find out. So I told myself that at least with another surname they’ll take longer to find me.’

It’s flimsy reasoning. If she’s truly as closely monitored as she’d implied, then they wouldn’t have let her go through with any of it, even with bribes from ShinRa’s General. Sephiroth might be able to open a lot of doors for her, but even he can’t do anything if there’s a higher power than him at play. No, if she’s managed to scrape together as much administrative weight as she already has, it’s because they let her. Perhaps they think it can do no harm for her to be legally registered in her own prison.

In any case, he refuses to believe she’d had only pragmatic reasons for choosing that name.

‘There’s also the fact that your adoptive parents have had you longer,’ he says, trying to show empathy. ‘I think it’s a good idea. To honour them in that way, even if you aren’t bound by blood.’

 ‘Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too… but if I could’ve taken my father’s name…’ she says wonderingly. She trails off, leaving the thought unfinished.

They shared a moment of companionable silence, Sephiroth heaving his finished braid over one shoulder.

‘I think I would’ve taken it,’ the General finds himself saying.

‘Faremis?’

He hesitates before replying, as though wary of offending her somehow.

‘Yes.’ Then he adds, ‘If the option had been available to me.’

‘That would’ve definitely been weird,’ Aeris says with a laugh. ‘I already feel like it’s too improbable for us to have shared the same father figure, so if you had done that – ’

‘Now that you mention it, yes, it would’ve probably felt a bit incestuous,’ Sephiroth replies, to which she collapsed into giggles again. She’s broken the dramatic effect he’d sought to make, but as he smiles he realizes that sharing the memory of a loved one with laughter rather than respectful sobriety is bringing him closer to her than he would’ve thought possible.

He goes around the kitchen counter, trailing a hand along her back as he passes her. ‘I’ll get my checkbook.’

Aeris goes on sipping her coffee, swinging her legs absently under the bar stool as the caffeine drags her to a higher state of alertness. When he comes back, he’s holding a check. The signature is a massacre of black ink, as to be expected from someone like him. She looks at the number as she takes it from him, trying to convince herself that he’s actually got the money to be able to hand out figures this big.

‘Will that cover the expenses?’ he asks.

She wants to laugh. ‘Yeah. I think it’ll cover most of it.’

She folds it in two, and then frowns up at him. ‘Are you really going to answer their summons?’ she asks. ‘I mean, I know last night kind of went all over the place, but… Hollander still validated Genesis’s theory. And there’s all this stuff here,’ she adds, waving vaguely at the mess of hardware and papers in the living room.

Sephiroth sighs. ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I haven’t decided what to do yet. I think you were right about needing physical proof – I heard everything Hollander told you, but… it doesn’t feel real yet.’

Aeris gazes at him urgently. ‘Go through the files,’ she says. ‘That way you won’t need to hesitate any more.’

He slides a hand along her shoulder blades, leans in to kiss her on the forehead. ‘Let me take you to the council, first,’ he murmurs.

  
• • •

 

Her hair is loose, brushing the small of her back, and he watches her get out of his car with worry tickling the back of his mind.

‘Aeris,’ he calls after her, throat tight as he watches the sunlight breaking over her figure in a molten cascade. It seems they’ve only known one another in a world of obscurity, of stolen gazes and hands against strange wallpaper – so seeing her suddenly claiming her existence in sunlit reality comes as a bit of a shock. She turns to look down at him as she holds the car door open, leaning in so that her long hair streams down either side of her face. Green eyes sparkle at him, full of distractions, but he can tell that she’s still intrigued by where their relationship has gone and what last night will change between them. To be honest he’s wondering about that, too – they both know there are more pressing matters at hand, but neither can stop from being distracted by the other as Sephiroth hesitates to speak.

‘When are your working nights?’

It takes Aeris half a second to go from a frown to a grin of understanding. ‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Soldier.’

‘It’s so I know when I can contact you.’

The flowergirl sighs as she plops down on the seat, slamming the door shut. ‘Are you sure you can’t just call my mobile?’

‘The Company monitors my calls,’ he tells her. ‘Whenever I call the Bee, it’s from a payphone or someone else’s mobile.’

‘Then just call my private number from those phones,’ she says, taking out a pen and a pad of post-its from her bag. ‘I don’t want to have to pretend to be talking to ‘Mr Cain’ or ‘Mr Black’ all the time if you’re always calling Boss’s office.’

He watches her scribbling a number on a post-it for him.

‘Do you really have to…’ he starts, trailing off as though he knows the thought is inappropriate. She glances up at him playfully, like she knows exactly what he wants to say, and leans closer to give him a consolatory kiss him on the cheek.

‘It’s work. Most of them have no idea what they’re doing. Think of it as manual labour,’ she says. She’s a little too close for safety, and he’s looking at that plump mouth as he slides an arm around her, preventing her from moving away. He can’t stand the thought that the filth of the slums will be claiming those lips soon. He’s taken by the absurd urge to mark her, to brand her as his and his alone – so before replying he leans in and bites her, kissing her a little harshly.

‘I don’t want them touching you,’ he murmurs.

‘I’ll ask them to pay for just a glimpse, then,’ she teases him.

He’s nuzzling her jaw, trailing his open mouth down her throat and her eyes are closed as she gives herself up to his touch.

‘You’re actually jealous?’ she says.

‘Incredibly,’ he rumbles.

When he bites down and sucks on the flesh of her neck she takes too long to realize what he’s doing.

‘Sephiroth – ’ It takes all her effort to push him away, and there’s a devilish look in his eye as she glares at him. The red bruise is already blooming on her skin.

‘Cure it.’

‘No.’

‘Ok, now you’re just being childish,’ she protests, though her mouth is quirking towards a grin. They both know she can cure it herself – and Sephiroth wants to believe that she’ll keep it, just as a reminder of the morning they shared. She shakes her head with a sigh, arranges her hair appropriately and puts a hand on the door handle. Then she glances up at him again, her expression more solemn.

‘You’ll tell me when you make your decision, won’t you?’ she asks.

He nods at her, heart heavy. ‘I will,’ he promises her.

  
• • •  
  


Hours afterwards, Aeris has her ID card in hand and a smile plastered on her face that stays there all the way down to the slums. She can’t stop taking the shiny ID card out of her pocket, making the dirty yellow train lights slide across its slick plastic surface. She can’t wait to see what Elmyra will make of it. 

When she gets home Elmyra is slightly bewildered by Aeris’s radical change of mood. The last time she’d seen her, Aeris had been little more than a zombie – and now she’s parading around the kitchen, telling her all about the impossibly complicated process of obtaining an Upworld ID as she helps Elmyra to prepare lunch. She’s talking about a friend of hers who has recently obtained one, so Elmyra nods and listens, careful not to dampen her daughter’s hopes about the process as Elmyra is no stranger to being refused Upworld registration.

Then once the table is set, Aeris spins around, smiling up to her ears. Tells Elmyra she has a surprise. And she proffers a card, complete with her photo, identification number, slum address, and name.

_Aeris Gainsborough._

Elmyra tries not to cry but she does anyway, grabbing her daughter around the shoulders and telling her how proud she is. It’s difficult to believe that her own daughter might’ve gotten so far. Elmyra remembers one or two friends of hers who managed to obtain ID cards back when she was younger, but each time they had had connections, people to help them take advantage of the loopholes in the system. It was so rare for it to happen, slummers sticking through the whole process and emerging successful.

She looks at her daughter as they eat, telling herself that Aeris must’ve found the appropriate connections through her work. And she smiles as she watches Aeris wolfing down her lunch, feeling at peace, finally, with the idea of her daughter working in that place, fighting tooth and claw for one more morsel of freedom. If she managed to come this far, it must mean that she knows what she’s doing. She knows how to protect herself. Halfway through dessert Elmyra goes misty-eyed again, and Aeris has to come around the table to hug her, teasing her about being such a mother hen.

When Elmyra hears that Aeris has only slept one hour, she ushers her out of the kitchen, not wanting to hear another word from her until she’s gotten a decent chunk of sleep into her system. Aeris obligingly goes upstairs, leaving the ID on the kitchen table. Elmyra keeps looking at it as she gathers up the dishes, a feeling of accomplishment glowing in her chest.

She’s reclining in her armchair, dozing off, when there’s a knock on the door. Frowning, she gets up, dusting her hands on her apron as she peeks through the curtains.

Three blue suits. Tseng, standing with his two cronies, the redhead and the bald one. The sight of them blackens her insides, and Elmyra’s mind starts whirring as she gets up. Is it because of the ID? Was Aeris not supposed to try and get officially registered? Surely they would allow her some leeway, given the hardships they’ve put her through. Mouth dry, Elmyra goes to open the door.

‘Good afternoon, Ms Gainsborough,’ Tseng says. He steps inside without her inviting him. Elmyra backs away from him, grabbing the ID card from the table when she realises it’s still there.  

 ‘Can I see that, please?’ he says patiently.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He can see how frightened she is, how her feet must feel light with the urge to run. He only extends a hand, palm up, a request. After a few seconds Elmyra’s shoulders droop a little, muscles gathering defensively as she offers the requested object.

He turns the shiny ID card between his fingers, and he has to repress the smile that is twitching at the corner of his mouth. Aeris has always been charmingly rebellious: quiet, but persistent. It doesn’t matter that she might have papers; Midgarian law doesn’t strictly apply to her. All the papers that she needs to be legally defined are the ones that are stowed away on Floor 68, attesting to her being their ward, their property, their business on the whole. And Elmyra knows that just as well as he does.

He gives the card back to her with a small nod and she seems hesitant to take it back from him, eyes full of confusion. She expected him to snap it, or at least keep it, if it was really the problem.

‘I’m afraid Aeris has made a few mistakes,’ he says. ‘She was forbidden from interacting with a certain person, and we have footage of her getting out of his car earlier this morning in front of the council building. She knew the consequences. I’m here to pick her up.’

Words from a nightmare. Elmyra holds out her arms as she stands in her kitchen, fully prepared to act as a barrier if Tseng decides to go and fetch Aeris himself.

‘What do you mean, pick her up?’

 ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult for her,’ the Turk said. ‘She knows what to expect.’

‘What do you mean,’ Elmyra insists, ‘ _pick her up?’_

‘This would be much easier if there was a relationship of trust between us,’ the Turk said. ‘You must know how precious Aeris is to us. It is in both of our interests if we began to treat each other as business partners, rather than captors and captive.’

‘It would be in _both_ our interests?’ Elmyra echoes.

‘Yes,’ Tseng replies. ‘Thanks to Aeris’s contributions to ShinRa’s Science Department, she’ll be contributing to the safety of the whole city. And once the time is right to restart the Promised Land project, isn’t there something in that for all of us, and not just Aeris and ShinRa?’

‘You know, I don’t really blame you for wanting control over everything,’ Elmyra replies, speaking loudly, hoping that Aeris will have woken up and started preparing to escape. ‘It must be fantastic, to be in the position to choose what everyone’s best interests are.’

‘Ma’am,’ Tseng says firmly. ‘I don’t know if you realize this. But if we can have an amiable relationship with the both of you – there will be no reason to confine Aeris to Midgar. She’ll be free to go wherever she pleases.’

Her eyes glitter with a sharp understanding. ‘I know what you’re really asking. You want control over her mind. Getting her to trust you would be going one step further than simply having control over her body, wouldn’t it? She could trust you to hold your word, and in return, you would let her live some semblance of a life.’

‘Ma’am – ’

‘She would be free to go to the ends of the earth,’ Elmyra goes on. ‘But as soon as she made a single demand that didn’t please you, as soon as she did something that she shouldn’t have – you would rope her in again. Because that’s all your _relationship_ could ever be – allowances, conditional concessions. Exactly like what you’re enforcing right now. And she’s not about to sign up for some fake, friable freedom, Tseng, she wants all of it, everything you can’t give her while ShinRa still has an interest in her.’

‘I can give her more than what she has now,’ Tseng says, finally, urgently, and Elmyra is taken aback by the crack in his professional tone: he even dropped the Company _we._ ‘I can give her enough that she might stop opening her thighs for a living.’

Elmyra stares at him long and hard. And then she spits in his face.

Tseng wipes the saliva from his cheek. He sighs, and gestures at his cronies.

‘Get the girl,’ he says.

‘No,’ Elmyra breathes, and she staggers to the bottom of the stairs as Reno and Rude march across her kitchen towards her.

‘Out of the way, granny,’ Reno drawls as he grabs her, and she whips her head to the side desperately, hoping against hope that Aeris is already gone by the time she yells it – 

‘AERIS, RUN!’

• • •


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback guys! I couldn't resist adding a few bits to this one. Only a few more chapters left now!

• • •

There was so much paperwork. Sephiroth was deep in it all morning, ignoring the messages that were piling up in his phone as Lazard and Tseng and Zack asked where he was, what he was doing, why he wasn’t out there with them holding back the perimetre of rioters. It made his heart pound and his head spin to ignore the voice of authority that had always had him running to prove his worth, but he had a promise to uphold, and a far bigger debt to pay than the one he owed ShinRa.

He had sorted out the folders of irrelevant data, focusing on dates and key names as he sipped coffee and organised everything into piles. Gradually the folders stamped with dates between the mid-seventies and eighties were all stacked together, and Sephiroth only had to flip one of them open to see the words _Project G_ stamped over the confidential files.

It was real. It unfolded grotesquely in front of him, this limb of the past that had always been tucked away and hidden. It was all real. He knelt there with his coffee mug in hand, and he was barely five pages into the second folder that he already needed to take a break. The evidence was overwhelming. Dates, team names, even meticulously detailed inventories of where they had found the two-thousand year old capsule.

Jenova. That was the biggest paradox of all. Why did it have the same name as his mother? He’d told himself it must be a coincidence, that the scientists had simply given the life form the first female name that popped into their heads. That it just so happened to be the same as Sephiroth’s mother, however…

There was something, a noise. Like a woman screaming in the distance. Sephiroth lifted his head, glanced at the front door.

In the next second he could see it happening – he saw long chestnut hair, held back and coiled around a strong fist. He saw a long white throat straining, an arm coming around a slender waist. A face contorted with pain and fear. Raw red lips, nails raking across blue threads, a long black gun barrel against the delicate hollow of a temple.

Sephiroth’s mouth parted as he felt that cold metal against his own face. He touched his temple automatically, finding nothing there. And then the sound of a deep, familiar voice pressed into his ears – _you’re coming with us._

He got up, reached for his phone and called Aeris.

• • •

 

‘Ladies and gents, this is Angeal Hewley, First Class Soldier. One of Genesis’s closest friends.’

Angeal stood in front of the leaders of the movement he had been tasked to eliminate, the high midday sun glinting on his pauldrons. A tiny woman in heavy combat gear stepped forwards, and Hegemony opened her arms, inviting them both to officially shake on their newfound alliance. He wouldn’t have thought that the Avalanche matriarch would be so short and utterly unintimidating. Still, he reached out a hand, and Elfé took it in an iron grip, smiling a hard smile.

Angeal raised his eyebrows. ‘Is it – alright to shake my hand? Seeing your stance on Soldiers, and all.’

Gem grinned up at his sarcasm – it was impossible to come together without mentioning their differences, and Angeal must’ve had his own set of problems with Avalanche, too. But the leaders laughed, clearly all too happy at having another Soldier among them to begrudge him the criticism.

‘As long as you aren’t contagious,’ one of them joked, before Elfé spoke up.

‘Our beef is with ShinRa, not the people who suffer their manipulations.’

‘Are you sure about that? According to the research, Soldiers are actually _manufactured_ by ShinRa, remember,’ Angeal said with a smile.

‘Well, we’ll pull your power cable if you start being difficult,’ Elfé replied, and they laughed again. They formed a circle as the conversation began in earnest, their differences accepted and put behind them as they started strategizing. Angeal informed them of what he knew of ShinRa’s defense plans, the perimetre they were enforcing, and the fact that nobody had heard from Sephiroth since the first day of the riot. He theorized that Lazard had pulled Sephiroth out for the time being, not wanting to risk more desertions, which gave them a significant advantage.

‘We should make our move now, before he gets pushed back out onto the field. Our main problem for the time being is Second Class Zack Fair.’ Angeal said. Gem looked up, her expression pinched with worry. ‘He has all the capabilities of a First. Nobody should engage him but me. I think he can be negotiated with.’

Elfé nodded. She laid out her dog-eared Midgar map on a nearby upturned container, and the leaders all crowded around it as they went over which Sectors were occupied and where Zack had last been sighted. For a moment they communicated over phones and radio devices, trying to create a timeline of sightings to pinpoint where Zack might be right now. A few locations were decided, before Angeal spoke up again.

‘It’s likely that they’ll be searching for me, anyway,’ he said. ‘So I will make myself visible. I would advise not to go full offensive – with all of the Firsts currently off-duty, it's a good time to try and pull Seconds and Thirds out of ShinRa’s grasp and into our fold.’

They nodded. Elfé attributed different locations to each leader. She turned back to Angeal and Hegemony once they all began to disperse, hooking rifles onto their shoulders and tightening materia bracers around their wrists.

‘Thank you,’ she said to Angeal. ‘You have no idea how valuable your assistance is. We’re very glad to have you.’

‘And I’m glad to be here,’ Angeal said a little gruffly.

‘It was about time,’ Hegemony said, slapping him companionably on the shoulder. Angeal exchanged a look with his childhood friend’s former woman, nodding at her with a warm look in his eyes. Then he held out his hand to her.

‘For Genesis,’ he said. She took his hand with a smile.

‘For Genesis.’

• • •

 

Is it morphine? I don’t know what they’re giving me. I can’t feel my limbs. I – no, it isn’t morphine, last time I had morphine I was trapped between Hegemony’s thighs and we were doing something with candlewax and – she was wearing that shimmery thing I bought her. And that leather collar. Goddess, she was beautiful, she and the morphine, such a beautiful evening that was. The effect had come like an orgasm, slowly, building up – then sucking the blood clear from my veins, closing them all down.

I remember. Feeling like I was trapped in a vacuum-sealed plastic bag, my body tight and robust and stinging all over. And then, liberation, freedom from all sensation.  _Whoosh._

I’m laughing, remembering it. No, it’s not morphine. I don’t remember it making me this giddy.

No, this time – I feel like I’m flying, or hanging, like a twirling star, trapped in a kaleidoscope of lights and shapes. Hanging on a little string, the kind you hang in trees as decoration, spinning with the weight of my body.

Where… am I? Is it the morphine?

Why am I asking any questions, anyway? It’s so beautiful here.

Oh. This isn’t a kaleidoscope – it’s _glass_. The colours, they’re reflections, striping glass walls. I must’ve been staring at the patterns they make for ages. So – it’s a place, then. Am I in my head? No, it’s definitely a place.

How – long have I been here?

Oh. Hang on. That’s an important question, I think. How long... ooh, there’s movement again.

The succession of reflections are so magnificent, how they slide together, objects becoming little more than parallel lines. It’s like the glass is revealing their true nature, their liquid state once they’ve lost the austerity of the physical.

There are ugly faces ahead of me, breaking the pattern. I’m giggling as they stare at me through the glass, the distortions making their ears bloom into cauliflowers and retract back again, their facial features pull downwards like spoilt ink. But is it the glass, or is it really them? _Cauliflowers_ , I want to shout, _you’ve got cauliflowers on your head!_ I want to tell them, I _have_ to tell them how ugly they are, because it’s the truth, they desperately need know. Someone should be honest with them. They can’t be men if they don’t have beauty; it’s like having no soul.

‘He’s still out of it, then?’

Voices roll into my mind, like beads of coherence rolling into a swamp.

‘Yes. We have to keep him heavily drugged, he’s given us too much trouble already.’

‘Right. Open up.’

Oh. There’s – air against my skin. It feels heavenly. _Goddess_. I can feel every single hair pricking up, drawing up the flesh at its root, pulling at my nerves so that my skin feels stretched. Detached, even. It reminds me of when we would strip the skin off the animals we’d hunt back in Wutai, and hang the hides out to dry on crossed twigs – we’d scrape off the fur so that the morning light would shine through the naked membrane, revealing an intricate web of veins, red and purple curling in the corners like snakes. Sephiroth would have blood all over his fingers and he’d still scratch his face, completely oblivious, like he was so used to having bloody hands that he would forget that it leaves traces.

Goddess. The sight of Sephiroth with blood on his face. Nothing drove the point home quite as efficiently, that he had grown up with the war. Nothing shocked him. Nothing was ever ‘too much’.

We’d had a conversation about it once, with canned beans in our hands and leather gloves sitting on our thighs. Sephiroth’s naked hands would emerge from his gloves like women’s breasts emerge from lingerie. Indecent exposure if there ever was any. The question had been whether or not warmongering had changed any of us, for better or for worse.

 _How long have you been in Soldier?_ Sephiroth had asked us, and Angeal had let me answer first, sitting back and letting the beans cool in his open mouth after spooning them in too fast.

 _Since we were 15,_ I’d said. I knew where he was going with that idea, though. _You’ve been in Soldier your whole life, haven’t you?_

He’d gone on in that clumsy, wordy way he had of speaking. _You notice change, when you notice that your previous state of existence is behind you._ _When any part of your life can be defined as ‘previous’._

 _And war has never been previous to you?_ It was sad, really. But it was more thrilling than sad, to imagine how they had honed his beautiful mind, how quick and devastatingly intelligent he was as a result of not scattering his energy into other, more futile pursuits.

 _For me, there has never been any change,_ he’d said.

They called him the Demon of Wutai, didn’t they? Since he was a kid. While I was a small-town teenager playing with wooden swords, he was an actual certified demon _._ I used to think that being a demon meant you did what you wanted, you killed who you wanted to kill, so I found him even more attractive because of it. I could watch Sephiroth spar with the enemy all day, cutting a dark figure against the white snowfields of Wutai, moving devilishly fast. I would watch him hack them down, sliding the edge of his Masamune across their bodies like running a hot knife through butter, spinning around himself with those shapely legs gliding out of his trench coat. I would even risk getting hurt for it.

Angeal told me off once, when he had helped me hobble to the safety of a pine tree to take care of the dagger wound in my thigh. _If you didn’t stare at him like that you wouldn’t make this kind of stupid mistake._

I’ve always wondered, ever since that time. However cathartic it was to watch him perform, to watch him kill – was it as cathartic for him? Was it enjoyable, being the most powerful man on the battlefield? His eyes would glow with an iciness that I found thrilling, the pallor contrasting brilliantly with the red splatter on his skin. He never lost control, he was never too passionate. In fact it was his indifference that was so extraordinary. Everything that he didn’t let himself feel, every care that he’d never been taught to have. The blood ended up being the only piece of humanity on an otherwise deathly cold face.

_Those were children, Sephiroth._

_They had guns._

_But –_

_We were ordered to raze it to the ground, and leave none alive. Get your gear._

See, after all, I think I might have been wrong. Demons are never free.

Demons are summoned.

‘Wipe the fluids from his face, please. Here, untie him.’

‘Are you sure the dose isn’t too strong?’

‘The drug has not interfered with the treatment. It’s fine.’

The reflections aren’t gliding over my head any more. Is it still glass? Am I still in the same place? There’s snow on my fingertips, it feels like, and I’m anxious though I don’t know why.

Oh. We broke everything apart, didn’t we? It’s not a secret any more. That I love him too much.

Fuck. I've ruined everything. Oh, Goddess.

I’ve ruined it, ruined it, Goddess it hurts and why did I think about him, I’ve got to stop. Stop thinking about him.

I need a machine to go back in time. Or maybe I’ll buy one of those virtual realities that the hackers make, where you can insert the people you want from a list, and then I’ll live inside it. _Activate mission,_ says that little robotic voice, always female, always so damn cocky. As if she knows ahead of time that you’ll fail, and she’s sneering at you through her long black strands of barcode, through her prison of ones and zeros. Eyes freckled with gold like the motherboard that she has in lieu of a heart. _Activate life._ Yes, that’s what I’ll do. There’s always a solution for everything. Why didn’t I think of that earlier?

‘Well, gentlemen, it seems we’ve cured the deterioration.’

Applause. Is it for me? I would bow my head, if I still felt it balancing on my shoulders.

‘He shouldn’t need so many drugs now.’

‘No, we don’t need him to be conscious. Keep him on the prescribed doses.’

‘But – I thought you wanted to keep monitoring his mental state?’

‘Unfortunately, Genesis has shown himself to be too dangerous to be left conscious. It’s better if we don’t encourage his thought processes towards coherence.’

‘If you say so.’

• • •

 

The first time Genesis had been brought back to a state of true consciousness after his capture, they had put him through an interview. They’d sat him down in a comfortable chair, with sunlight on his skin, and a bowl of sweets on the coffee table. (Genesis had thought they must have been kidding about that part. But they hadn’t.) He’d never done therapy before; he was more the kind to rely on his brain’s capacity of cataloguing and filing away events in the long, dusty archive of things he shouldn’t think about. Until now, it seemed to have worked pretty well. But they told him that he would have to put up with their nosiness, their prodding and prying for the duration of his treatment, so he’d sat there, trying as hard as he could to keep his eyes open and ignore the pain that accompanied consciousness. For him, no time had passed between dying and this room, so he was still trying to remember why he was alive.

His wrists were red and chafed by the leather cuffs that bound him to the armrests; his hair was unkempt but clean, falling across his cheekbones and into his eyes as he squinted up at the therapist. The first clues as to how much time had passed since Zack had killed him were his change of clothes and the cleanliness of his body. The blood and grime had been wiped away, replaced by sterile white cotton.

‘Did you hear me, Mr Rhapsodos?’

Genesis licked his dry lips, his spine bent as he tried to keep the pain contained. His heart felt like a ball of burning charcoal. What had the question been, again?

‘As per the termination of Professor Hollander’s contract with ShinRa, your case has been transferred to Professor Hojo,’ the man on the other side of the desk said. ‘We understand that you were close to Hollander. We would like to facilitate this change for you. The adaptation period may be difficult, so we would like to offer you support every step of the way.’

‘Support?’ Genesis croaked.

‘Yes. I have been appointed as your therapist, so that we may keep up to date about how you’re feeling. If there are any questions you’d like to ask, or any messages you would like to pass along, you can go through me.’

‘I’d like to pass a message along to Hojo, yeah,’ Genesis rasped. The therapist leaned over the desk, his pen poised over his notepad.

‘I’m listening.’

‘Tell him he can suck my cock.’

The therapist was patient. ‘You may also use these sessions to vent any emotional excess you may be feeling, yes.’

Genesis wanted to laugh. ‘So I can say anything I want, then? I can ask any question I want?’

‘By all means. Please do.’

‘Alright then,’ Genesis bit out. ‘Maybe you could tell me why I’m not dead? And what you’re planning to do with me?’

‘You are not dead, because you are very precious to the ShinRa Corp,’ the therapist said, crossing his legs under his desk. ‘Your injury was healed right after it was inflicted. You are here to undergo treatment for the deterioration process that the unsteady Jenova cell implantation is causing.’

Genesis had reeled.

‘You’re admitting it? Just like that?’ he spluttered.

The therapist nodded. ‘Like I said. We would like to have an amiable relationship with you. From now on, there doesn’t have to be any more secrets between us.’

The subtext was loud and clear, even with the foggy state of Genesis’s mind. If they were telling him the truth, it was because he would never be setting foot outside of this place again.

‘Now, would you like to tell me about your relationship with Hollander?’ the therapist asked.

  
•

They had gone on in this fashion. Genesis would wake from a stupor of sedatives, never laying eyes on anyone or anything other than the guards that escorted him, and the balding therapist. Oh, he had tried in the beginning, to fight against the guards, to run his shoulder against the glass of his cell, howling like a caged animal whenever he failed due to his diminished strength. He noticed that there would be replies whenever he screamed, though he wasn’t sure whether it was simply echoes of his own voice, or real voices of others like him. Afterwards, when he realized he should save what little strength he had for strategy, he would sit in his cell, arms wrapped around himself, trying to calm the whir of his thoughts.

While Aeris prepared Sephiroth for their undercover mission to subtract information from Hollander, he’d sat in the evening lights of the therapist’s office, staring at the only other human he was allowed to talk to.

‘Do you miss your family, Mr Rhapsodos?’

‘What family is that?’

‘Mr and Mrs Rhapsodos.’

Icy blue eyes peered from between discoloured strands of hair.

‘You know, don’t you?’ he muttered. ‘You know who my biological parents are.’

‘What makes you think that we had anything to do with the adoption process?’

‘I’m your property,’ Genesis said. ‘A ward of ShinRa, Inc, like Sephiroth but without the kiss-marks all over my arse. You bought a child that nobody would miss, and then once the experiment turned out to be a failure, you decided to make it someone else’s responsibility. But you kept monitoring it, as you do with all the specimens you inflict on the world.’

There was a silence filled with the scratching of pen on paper. ‘You’ve been doing a lot of thinking, I see.’

‘Well, stick a man in a round cell and his mind is bound to start going in circles.’

Scratch, scratch. ‘When did you first start piecing together this sequence of events?’

‘A long time ago. I heard my parents talking about her. My birth mother.’

‘I see.’ Scratch, scratch. ‘Well, you are correct. We do know who your birth mother is.’

Genesis straightened. ‘You do?’

The therapist looked up at him from under his brow, glasses flashing. ‘She was a teenager when she came to us. The program had a limited budget, so Hollander had put in a word at the maternity ward of the Midgar Hospital – they were to notify him if unwanted pregnancies came through. She signed a contract, promised never to come into contact with you, and was given a stipend for her trouble.’

Licking his dry lips, Genesis breathed, ‘What was her name?’

‘I don’t have that information,’ the therapist said. ‘Most of the files pertaining to Project G have been destroyed. However, we did monitor her for the first few years to make sure she did not try to contact you or go to Banora. So perhaps I could find out for you from the Turk department.’

‘Do you know what happened to her?’ Genesis asked. ‘Where she is now?’

‘Once again. I can find try to find that information for you.’

‘Can I see her? Once you find her, can you bring her in here?’

The therapist breathed out through his nose, contemplating the man in white in front of him. 

‘What do you think that would accomplish?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you think it would be a little selfish? She has moved on with her life. How do you think she would feel, being reminded of the child she gave away thirty years ago? She has the right to remain ignorant of your existence, as per the contract she signed.’

Genesis glared at him. ‘Did she choose to remain ignorant? Or did you force her to stay away from me?’

‘Mr Rhapsodos,’ the therapist said. ‘There are many reasons why we should not take her in to see you. First of all, she has the right to lead her own life, as we said. And secondly, you are in no fit state for visitors right now. Don’t you think it would hurt her to see you in the throes of deterioration?’

Genesis shook his head. ‘I’m never going to be better,’ he snarled. ‘You _know_ I’m going to be staying in here, withering away until I die.’

‘That is simply untrue. We are making incredible discoveries thanks to you. Perhaps once you’re cured, we can talk about inviting – ’

‘ _Bullshit!’_ Genesis shouted, making the therapist jump. ‘Roberts told me deterioration was incurable, so don’t fucking coddle me. You’re just taking advantage of the freedom you have over me now that I’m legally _dead_.’

‘Calm down, please. You know we will resort to tranquillizers if you become aggressive,’ the therapist said, never losing his calm demeanour. He was so unshakeable, that godamn puppet – so fucking full of himself, him and his glasses and his bright red Company pen.

‘I’m already high, I’ve been high as a kite ever since coming here, so what would that even change?’ Genesis spat. ‘Just say it to my face. The real reason you don’t want me to see my mother is because you don’t want her to know what ShinRa does to its wards. You don’t want her to see that we’re nothing more than experiments.’

‘You are our patient, Mr Rhapsodos,’ the therapist said.

‘Oh yeah? What about all the scars on my chest? The needle marks in my arms?’ Genesis raged, voice trembling. ‘The electrodes that are stuck to my chest _right now?_ The fact that I can’t _breathe_ whenever I wake up, because I’ve spent the last few hours with a fucking respiratory tube shoved down my throat – ’

‘We’ve been over this already, Mr Rhapsodos,’ the therapist said, ‘You are unwell. We are doing our utmost to cure you. Until then, you will remain safely in our care, with minimal stimulation. That means no visitors.’

 _Safe_ – yes, that was another of their recurrent aberrations. He was safe here. No harm could possibly come to him while he was in their care.

•

‘I found her name,’ the therapist said, perhaps the next day, perhaps the next fucking year, sitting down at his desk in a creak of leather. Genesis had glanced up listlessly. It seemed obvious by then that they would tell him anything they wanted. Any lie that best fit the tantrum he was making. Just so he might feel ‘heard’ and ‘supported’.

‘Beatrice Crow.’

The name had no effect. It might as well have been a name picked out of a list of randoms. Genesis gazed at him coolly. Perhaps frustrated by his lack of reaction, the therapist slid a file onto the desk. Genesis glanced down at it, saw a jumble of details, hair colour (auburn), eye colour (blue), height (1m58), weight (49kg), and all sorts of dates and details about the life she had led during the months in which she’d been most likely to develop post-partum depression. It could’ve been anyone’s file. Some registered Mako consumer, or a random Turk informant.

‘Did you find out what her situation is now?’ Genesis asked, because there was still a part of him that yearned to be given stories he could hold onto, even if they were fake.

 ‘She moved to Kalm about ten years ago,’ the therapist said. ‘Beyond that, we have no further data.’

‘Was she ever affected by this alien shit?’ Genesis bit out.

‘We began the treatments on you long after our contract with her had ended,’ the therapist said. ‘We monitored her condition for a few months after your birth, but otherwise, no. Gillian was the only female to receive Jenova cells.’

‘Did her flesh turn grey, too?’ he asked, and he might’ve been crying, but he wasn’t sure – he was beginning to lose sensation by then. ‘Did her hair turn white? Did she piss blood and peel away flakes of her own dead skin – ’

‘No,’ the therapist interrupted. ‘Rest assured. You are the only one in which the experiment failed.’

  
• • •

 

He made his first attempt that afternoon, while Tseng stepped into Elmyra's house to talk about Aeris's future. When the guards came to check on him, he had dismembered his toilet and used the metal lift chain to slash his wrists. There was a great pool of blood growing around him as he sat there, feigning unconsciousness, and the guards rushed in, reaching mindlessly to prop him up.

Genesis had been deathly afraid of losing too much blood, of letting all his strength trickle away before they actually arrived, but they showed themselves to be punctual. They left the door open, too preoccupied by his state to take precautions. He’d held his breath, fingers shaking as he discreetly unclipped the strap of the holster when the guard leaned close enough, sliding his hand around the grip of the gun. For a moment his fingers had slipped with all that blood and he’d let out a snarl of fear as he angled it at the guard’s chest. But the trigger clicked, and the shot blasted through the man’s lung. The other guard had immediately stepped back, but Genesis had been too fast. He shot him in the head in the second that followed.

The two shots resounded far too loudly as both guards crumpled to the floor, and there was a clamour of bodies against bars, of rattling cages and strident howls as Genesis got to his feet shakily, fingers dripping with blood. The gun was shaking in his grasp, and he fumbled over the second guard’s body, stepping out of his grey cell with a gun in each hand. He was haggard, hair discoloured and skin practically translucent, and when more guards ran down the corridor he crippled them with bullets, gritting his teeth as he concentrated on aiming. He tried not to trip on the bodies as he picked his way through the corridor, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

When he stepped into the main hall, blinking with difficulty, the guns too heavy for his weakened arms – he finally realized just where he was. There was a great number painted on the wall ahead.

 This was no medical facility. This was no mental asylum, either.

This was Floor 68.

There was a wide grating covering the floor, showing the extent of the professor’s “collection” of specimens beneath. Directly ahead of him were tables covered in paraphernalia, from glass vials to giant metallic containers, some of them oozing a steady white steam. Long cylindres of Mako stretched up to an unfathomable ceiling, hidden in pipelines and hanging wires – crates upon crates of ShinRa-stamped material and biomechanical weaponry crowded every wall, every unoccupied cell.  And in the middle of it all was a round glass cell.

He could already hear boots clanking against the metal grating as more guards made their way to him. He glanced around for an exit, vision hazy, and felt his heart rise with giddy anticipation when he glimpsed a set of double doors – he picked up his feet, limping pathetically as he ran towards it without thinking, rammed his shoulder against it with a cry of self-encouragement. The doors didn’t give, only clattered against the bolts that held them shut, and he tried to keep from whimpering with despair as he slid down the cool surface.  
  
As they gained on him he tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, it was only a first attempt, at least he’d be able to map the place out a little more for the next time. They grabbed him, hauled him up from where he was crouching. He fought to remain conscious as they arranged his body on a stretcher, a cloud of green magic enveloping him as they Cured his wrists.

Genesis concentrated as hard as he could on the sounds around him to not give in to comfortable darkness. He had had enough of the incoherent dreams, the bits and pieces of memories that would drift through his mind like the remains of a fire, carried on the wind. Memories were as treacherous a comfort as sleep in here. He needed to know where they took him, where he spent all those hours of darkness.

‘We won’t have time for that, we don’t have enough in storage yet.’ Hojo was speaking above him, apparently walking briskly next to the stretcher as they wheeled him through the corridors. 'The wretch must’ve lost at least two pints of blood **,** and we only have a few packets of J01. Not to mention the damned deterioration process will be getting in the way of his blood production.’

Two turns to the left. Three sets of double-doors. Genesis committed each detail to memory as best he could as the prickle of blood loss helped to keep him awake.

They’d stopped, the wheels whining as they set the stretcher in a precise position. Genesis heard the clatter of metallic objects, an abstract succession of noises as they set something up all around him, pressing buttons and wheeling things about. It was no trouble to remain still as they strapped an oxygen mask to his face and inserted a thick needle in the crook of his elbow, because he was only aware of his body as a prickling canopy of empty veins.

‘The clone will die if we remove so much blood now,’ said an assistant. ‘The transformation is incomplete.’

‘He’s the one whose transformation has gone the furthest without malformations,’ another assistant argued.

‘This entire batch is ruined anyway,’ Hojo replied to them both. ‘The project will only be viable once the stem cells no longer have any traces of deterioration.’

‘Sir?’ said an aid. ‘If I may ask – how long have you known that it would fail?’

‘There was little chance that any of them would see through to the complete transformation while we use cells from a deteriorating original. I simply thought that since so little is known about the potential of Jenova cells, it might work and save us some time. Admittedly, I was wrong.’

 _Clones,_ Genesis thought desperately, branding it into his brain and trying to stop his imagination from running wild as he mentally chanted it. _Clones. Clones._ They were lacing the oxygen with something, he could feel it – while he should’ve been getting stronger, he was only getting sleepier, so he held onto that word as though holding onto dear life.

The transfusion was well under way when Hojo left his assistants to monitor him.  And Genesis was almost as terrified of opening his eyes as he was of falling asleep before he could get the chance – he tried to visualize where the assistants were, listening hard for the noises they made as they walked about and muttered to one another, always near enough to keep an eye on him. When he was sure that the both of them were exceptionally behind him, he took a deep breath, the sense of foreboding almost choking him as he slid his head to the side where they’d pricked him, and cracked his eyes open.

He was on the other slab.

The red hair, the smooth skin, even the jaw was set in the same way. It was him.

Was he – was this an out-of-body experience? Maybe he had drifted out of his body and was staring at himself from some kind of astral plain. No, in his state it was more likely to be a hallucination than any type of spiritual experience. Or maybe – he was a foster child, maybe he had a twin? Maybe – 

Genesis lifted his eyes as the possibilities filled his head, distracting him from the blatant truth. And what he saw only confirmed what he didn’t want to believe: on either side of him were cylindres of Mako, towering over him like terrible, glowing walls. And in each one of them floated a replica of himself, at varying stages of transformation; some of them sporting extra limbs or sickening malformations, their flesh rolling from their bones in abnormal shapes as they floated there, unconscious of how monstrous they were becoming.

If the sedative hadn’t pulled him under, he would’ve screamed.

• • •

 

_Beep… beep… beep…  
You’ve reached Chimera’s personal phone. Leave your message at the tone, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks! _

‘Aeris. It’s Sephiroth, I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Please call me back as soon as you get this. Are you in trouble? What’s going on? You need to call me, alright? Speak soon.’

_Click._

• • •

 

Tseng had flown in with his charge, landing on the helipad at the top of the ShinRa tower. He accompanied Aeris in the elevator down to Floor 68, and as soon as the doors had closed on them she had wrenched out of his grasp, standing as far away from him as she could in the cramped space. He found himself openly staring at her as she looked down at the city, the clear glass buildings glittering in the golden dawn.

The feeling of her struggling was still vivid against the pads of his fingers. She had been so feral. It was strangely thrilling to him to imagine just how far she was willing to go, if it meant a chance to escape.

He curled his hands behind his back, wondering what to say to her. He had to say something. It would be a while until he would see her again.

‘It can’t be easy to return here after all this time,’ Tseng said carefully. ‘After all we… handled things very unprofessionally, the last time you were here. But it will be different now. The facilities have been upgraded for prolonged use. Much more comfortable than ten years ago.’

When she finally glanced over at him, her expression was vitriolic. But he held her gaze, knowing he deserved every single spark of hatred that he could see therein.

‘I have nothing to say to you,’ was all she said, before turning her back to him again.

The Turk shifted, squaring his shoulders.

‘So. To resume our contract: you will stay here for an indefinite duration,’ he said in a clipped, professional tone. ‘You will sleep in a detainment cell that we will keep closed for the sake of Company privacy. You will have three meals a day, and be solicited at any hour in between according to the professor’s needs. There may be times where you will have to remain in your cell until they fetch you; I’ve had reading material brought in to help you pass the time. You will be able to make your own requests, too.’

‘How nice,’ Aeris replied, still not looking at him. ‘Girly magazines, I suppose?’

‘Travel brochures,’ Tseng said. ‘The Northern Continent, Cosmo Canyon, various natural wonders and landmarks that I thought you might find interesting.’

She gave a little laugh, forcing the breath from her throat.

‘What is it?’ Tseng asked, frowning. He’d already broken protocol by showing a shred of consideration for their most precious subject – surely she was aware of that.

‘No, it’s very kind of you,’ Aeris finally said. ‘Very considerate.’

He didn’t ask her why she was smiling.

‘I believe the primary concern they had was with the physical repercussions of your… chosen profession,’ Tseng said. ‘So the first thing you can expect them to do will be to lay your worries to rest, regarding those particular issues.’

Aeris looked at him again, eyes full of a fiery provocation. ‘Were you worried about me, Tseng? All those nights you spent looking up at my window, trying to catch a glimpse?’

She knew exactly how to get under his skin. Tseng tried to ignore the comment, but she just pressed her point further;

‘You know, I spent the entire year at the Bee wondering if you’d come in sometime. Why not take advantage of the only opportunity you’d ever get to finally fuck me?’

Tseng clenched his jaw as he resolutely looked out of the elevator windows. ‘It doesn’t suit you to stoop so low,’ he muttered.

‘Maybe it was because you knew I would never say yes,’ she all but snarled. ‘Because that’s the advantage, with sex work. We get to choose. We get to kick the men out if they aren’t conforming to the rules. Do you understand? _We_ get to set all the rules, make all the choices. So don’t even try to act like you’re doing me a favour here by taking me away from it all.’

‘You know you’ve been putting yourself in danger,’ Tseng replied, a little baffled by her positioning. ‘At least the interactions here are never erotic. They are purely medical and scientific. The intention has always been very professional.’

‘And why should you decide what I find invasive, Tseng?’ Aeris asked, ‘Tell me. How is it that you all seem to know so much better than I do, what’s appropriate, what I should be feeling? An interaction is inappropriate starting from the point where it’s forced. And I think that deep down, you agree with that – which is why you so desperately draw up contracts with everyone you mistreat. But you won’t admit it, because that would mean accepting that your notion of what’s _appropriate_ depends in part on our opinion, and Gaia forbid that our opinion might ever have as much weight as yours.’

When the elevator stopped Tseng still hadn’t found an appropriate answer to that. He gave her to the lab assistants with a troubled frown, retreating in the elevator and feeling very small indeed when she looked over her shoulder at him with those piercing green eyes. He felt a sting of something close to disgust as the assistants touched her arms, guiding her along the corridor, and when the doors shut on her slim figure he had the absurd desire to call her back, gather her up in his arms and tell her – _I’ve always valued your opinion, Aeris._

_Always._

But he could already imagine what she would’ve replied.

_A little, perhaps. But not enough._

 

• • •

  
After having made her shower and don a clean white cotton dress, they did as Tseng had said. Checked her thoroughly for any sign of STDs or alterations of her bodily functions. The gynaecological tests were the hardest to sit through. At least with the MRIs and scans there was enough noise and obscurity for her mind to wander and pretend that none of this was really happening, that she had fallen into some Lifestream leak and would wake up at any moment now, climb out of her memories and back into the comfort of her bed.

Tseng hadn’t been lying about the upgraded cells. The bed actually had a foam mattress with a thick, downy duvet on it. There was a desk with a lamp and several magazines, a fancy flowery screen to hide the toilet, and one wall even had a forest-themed wallpaper to make it look like she wasn’t going to be living in a windowless grey box for the foreseeable future.

She placed a hand on the magazines, flipping through them. There was a dead weight to her limbs. She wasn’t trembling any more, she just felt heavy and sluggish instead. The worst had happened. She was here now, beyond panic, having retreated into a numb mindspace where she steadily took in the different facets of her situation.

As the hours trickled by, she began to remember what she had hated the most about this place. The waiting. The dead spaces between the buzz of the intercom, the swish of the cell door opening. She devoured the magazines in about two hours, glancing up at the digital clock above the door like it was any use to keep track of the time. The panic began to creep back in as she paced, hands on her hips. She had already familiarised herself with everything in the room. There was nothing more to look at except that godawful forest wallpaper.

After six hours had passed, the panic was back in full force. She was really here again. She was really going to be staying. Indefinitely. In this little grey box. She started ripping the wallpaper down in wild, uncalculated lunges, panting harder and harder with each peel that fluttered to the floor. She stood up on her chair to get to the corners, stripped it all down. Once it was done she stepped back down, trying to get the remaining scraps off the wall with her nails, but they wouldn’t come and the frustration turned to rage. She grabbed the chair in both hands, hurled it at the wall with a yell. It was useless and she knew it. But at least it felt like doing something, struggling, letting herself hope that something would come of desperate violence.

She was sitting on her heels in the middle of the torn papers, sobbing incoherently when she heard the buzz of a cell door. Wiping her soaking cheeks, she glanced up at her door, halfway between relief at not having to wait any more and dread at what tests they would be submitting her to now. But then there was the sound of a door sweeping open. It wasn’t hers. It was the next cell over. She pushed herself up, pressed an ear to the wall and tried to follow the sounds.

Someone staggered into the room in a clink of buckles. There was a _thump,_ as though the person had fallen to their knees. Aeris closed her eyes, imagining the scene. There were two lab assistants – the squeak of plimsoles was unmistakable. Heavier footfalls settled by the entrance. Guards, perhaps. There was a dragging, plimsoles hurrying along the floor as the lab assistants helped the specimen to the bed. Aeris crept along the wall, hands on the ripped paper as she followed the movements. Bed springs groaned as the specimen was set down. Then the plimsoles squeaked back to the cell door, and there was the swish of the door opening and closing again.

Aeris listened hard. She had had ‘wallmates’ before, people who would gladly talk to her about their lives, what they were doing there, whether it had been voluntary or not. She suspected that Hojo let his specimens speak among themselves because they might reveal details about their private lives whilst thinking they weren’t being listened to. Heart in her throat, she caught the creak of bed springs as the specimen on the other side of the wall shifted. There was a soft groan that sounded very human.

‘Hello?’ she called.

The bed springs creaked in earnest as the person shifted again.

‘Is someone there?’ came a voice from the other side.

Aeris smiled tremulously. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Never had a neighbour before,’ said the voice. It was deep, though slightly distorted though the thickness of the wall. ‘How long have you been there?’

‘I just got here a few hours ago,’ Aeris said. ‘How about you?’

‘I don't... I don't know. I keep going back and forth between this room and some great big glass cell. It's hard to tell the time passing.’

Aeris asked specifications about the glass cell – the voice gave her the details she remembered, the huge circular cell, the lights from the machinery all around. The person spoke slowly, enunciating their words like they were deadly tired.

‘I’m sorry,’ the voice said after a while. ‘The sedatives they’re giving me – it’s difficult to stay conscious. But please keep talking. You have no idea how good it is to hear a friendly voice.’

So Aeris talked. She was wary of the fact that Hojo was certainly recording everything, so she grabbed a couple of magazines, sitting with her back to the wall as she read the stories she could find. She would hear the voice grunt a response to certain agony aunt stories and travelling anecdotes. While she was reading, she wasn’t alone, she wasn’t entirely here – she was enjoying a shared moment of fantasy with her new friend, hiking through mountains and reclining in sun-bathed hammocks. She could’ve kept on reading all night if he hadn’t quietly told her that he was falling asleep. She could feel an irrational grief welling inside her at the thought of being alone again, tears pricking her eyes as her friend fell silent.

‘Alright,’ she said against the wall. ‘Sleep well. It was nice to meet you.’

 •

 

She dragged her bed up against the wall and slept a few hours before her own buzzer went off. It was a day of interviews, assistants asking her to go over everything that had happened after she escaped, fact-checking against files that the Turks had supplied them. They took photos and samples and catalogued everything they could before allowing her to shower and leading her back into her cell.

She sat on her bed, head against the wall, eyes closed as she waited for her friend to come back. When he did there was a scuffle, the whack of something blunt against a body, a grunt of pain. Then the door swept shut, and Aeris listened as her friend settled onto the bed in a groan of bed springs. It had barely been twenty-four hours and yet it had already become a routine – her ear against the cool ripped wallpaper, the bed springs, her friend sighing.

‘Are you OK?’ she called.

‘Oh, you’re there?’ the voice said. ‘I thought I had hallucinated you.’

‘No, I’m here, I’m real,’ Aeris said with a smile.

They didn’t ask each other about what had been done to them that day. Instead, the person asked Aeris to tell them about her life, so she sighed and spoke outright of Ifalna and her Ancient lineage, since there was nothing Hojo could really threaten her with any more.

‘You’re pulling my leg,’ the voice said. ‘I’m really talking to the last living Cetra?’

‘Yeah, you are,’ Aeris said with a smile. ‘Well, I’m half-Cetra, really. But it still counts.’

‘Wow. I’m honoured. Please – imagine me bowing.’

‘I’m imagining it,’ Aeris said, her smile widening. ‘Thank you.’

‘However did you manage to get caught up with Hojo? Surely you would know to avoid Midgar like the plague.’

‘I would’ve if it had been possible,’ Aeris said. ‘But I was confined here. There was nowhere I could go.’

She told him about her childhood in the labs, her escape to the Sector 5 slums, the surveillance that she was always under. He seemed outraged that she had never set foot outside of Midgar. She found herself reassuring him, telling him about Elmyra’s house in Sector 5, how it was one of the more well-off areas that actually had running water.

 ‘Sector 5…’ her friend said. ‘There’s a church there, right?’

Aeris thought of sun-drenched flowers, and Genesis’s hands on her thighs. She bit her lip, wrapped her arms around her knees.

‘Yeah.’

‘Have you ever been in there?’

‘I have,’ Aeris said. ‘I practically adopted the place, actually. It’s where I grow my flowers.’

There was a silence.

‘Come again?’ the voice said. Its tone was strained.

‘Oh, I just – I was just saying that I grow flowers in that church. It’s a great place for a garden, as there’s light and plenty of water leaking from the main pipelines close by.’

Silence again. And then; ‘Aeris? Is that you?’

Aeris frowned. ‘Wait, do we know each other?’

The bed springs groaned as her friend came closer to the wall. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Why would you be here?’

Aeris felt her body go cold as she listened to that familiar voice, trying to pinpoint where she knew it from. She turned, pressed her ear against the wall, hands against the plaster as she dared to hope.

 ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

There was a silence, the rush of a palm against plaster, as though her friend were trying to get closer to her, too.

‘Do you remember that morning, in the sunlight, when you took me to see your garden?’

Aeris put a hand over her mouth. No, that couldn’t be right. But she couldn’t resist the idea, the desperate hope that it might be him.

‘Genesis?’ she breathed.

There was a moment where they both spoke at the same time, hands on the wall, achingly close as they slid down cold plaster, Aeris asking _you’re alive? it’s really you?_ and Genesis saying _what are you doing here? you can’t be here, why would you be here?_ Eventually Aeris was crying too hard to talk properly, and Genesis was telling her _it’s alright, it’ll be alright, I promise._ Then the flaps in both their cell doors were rudely clanked open, interrupting them as their dinner was pushed through, but Aeris was too busy asking him what had happened, why they were keeping him here, what they were doing to him.

‘They cured me,’ Genesis told her. He explained to her, how he’d been close to dying because of the deterioration, and how he was better now. No more chronic pains, no white hair or peeling skin. But they had moved on to other tests now that he could hardly fathom.

‘Don’t tell me too much,’ Aeris told him immediately. ‘Everything we’re saying is being recorded.’

‘I guessed that might be the case,’ Genesis said. And then he asked her, ‘Was it true, what you were telling me earlier? That you’re the last living Cetra?’

‘It is,’ Aeris told him. ‘It’s why I’m here.’

‘Gaia. That explains your ability with magic,’ he went on incredulously. He talked about her green thumb and her eyes, as though cobbling together the proof he needed to believe her, and she smiled at all the details he had remembered about her life. She could tell he'd read up on the subject and was desperate to have her confirm what he'd read about.  

'Is it true you can hear people's voices in the Lifestream?' he asked at some point. ‘Like when you told me about the person who stayed in there for almost a decade?’

‘Yeah,’ Aeris said. ‘That was my mother.’

‘You could really hear her talking to you?’

‘I could, yeah. She taught me so much. She was always there. After a while it takes its toll, though, staying whole, fighting against the current. I knew I had to let her go eventually, and she waited for me to be ready. I mean, you never really are ready, but… she wouldn’t leave until I told her it was alright to go.’ Aeris closed her eyes, bit her lip as the emotions lurched through her. 'You know, I never felt it happen, when they said you’d died,’ she added. ‘Normally I can tell when a person has rejoined the Lifestream. So no matter what everyone was saying, deep down I knew you were still alive.’

Genesis remained silent for a moment. And then he said, ‘Crisis, I want to kiss you right now.’

Aeris’s smile widened as she pressed harder against the wall. They went on speaking way into the evening, Aeris answering his questions about her abilities and detailing her conversations with ghosts. Before long though, his words were getting slower and slower, and she could hear him valiantly fighting the effects of his drugs.

‘I’m sorry, Aeris,’ he said after a while. ‘I want to stay up, I really do, but – ’

‘It’s OK,’ Aeris said, pressing herself against the wall as intimately as if it were his body. ‘I’ll be here all night. Right next to you.’

 

• • •

 

The next day was spent in her cell, waiting for him to come back from wherever they’d taken him. The giddiness of Genesis being alive, being just within reach, was steadily replaced by dread at what they were doing to him. What they were using him for. She made requests for more books when an assistant slid her lunch through her door, and spent a couple of hours meticulously picking at her food, making the distraction of eating last as long as possible.

It was partway through the afternoon when she felt it. A whisper, like fingertips brushing along her jawline. The giddy closeness of someone’s lips against hers. She went very still, closing her eyes. There were images and feelings coming her way, but they were all jumbled, like the person didn’t quite know how to make a cohesive sentence yet. Distant gunfire blasted a crisp staccato, and the smell of burning invaded the room. She breathed out, concentrated. There were Peacekeepers marching in the white sunlight. Rioters with shaved heads held their fists in the air, and the metallic ring of a sword reverberating. Then she saw a face, glancing over worn silver pauldrons. Long white hair spattered with blood, eyes pale and bloodshot as they caught her gaze.

Sephiroth was trying to talk to her. He was trying to say something in the Ancient language. Aeris frowned, letting the images come. There was the image of a stern blond man with files in his hand, sitting at a desk. A map with a steadily shrinking perimetre. Angeal on the other side of a main road, standing among lines of rioters, a huge sword in his hand as he advanced. She couldn’t tell if he was saying that he’d gone back out there, or that he was still afraid of picking a side.

Sensations danced along her neck, ghostly fingers twining through her hair. She bit her lip as she understood the main intentions that Sephiroth had woven into his clumsy message.

_Scared. Confused. Where are you?_

She focused. It had been such a long time since she’d spoken to a living person. The immediacy of the connection made her breathless. She sent him back her own messages, her capture. Genesis’s face, the sound of his voice through the wall. _He’s alive,_ she stressed in her call. _Genesis is alive, in the labs with me, right here, right now._

She waited the rest of the afternoon for a response, but nothing came. If Sephiroth had asked her where she was, then surely he hadn’t understood her earlier cry for help. Perhaps he found it difficult to decipher her messages. If he still doubted as to whether it was his imagination or her really talking to him, then perhaps she’d have to press her point.

Genesis came back before she could throw out another call. It was evening by then, and he was in too much pain to be up for a conversation about Sephiroth and the outside world. Aeris lay down in her bed, listening to Genesis’s breathing, to the mattress groaning as he shifted. Then the sensations started again – she shivered as insubstantial words danced down her neck, down her cleavage, ghostly fingers tracing her skin. She closed her eyes, wondering if Sephiroth was really sending her this or just thinking about it a little too hard. She could feel his mouth against her throat, the silken fall of his hair across her chest. His hands caressing the inside of her thigh.

 _I miss you,_ throbbed the message. _I want you._

She sent him back a response. Elegantly woven images of their bodies entwined, her mouth claiming his, pressing his wrists down against silver fox fur. 

_I miss you too._

She was a mess of longing and arousal and grief and the ghostly sensations did nothing to appease her. So she knocked against the wall, curling up against it as she listened for Genesis.

‘What’s wrong?’ Genesis called over.

‘I really need a hug,’ Aeris bit out, and she heard the bed springs creak as Genesis rolled over.

‘Put your hands on the wall.’

She did as he said, hating that this was the closest she could get to him. With his husky drug-laced voice, Genesis detailed their imagined embrace, from the way their legs were positioned to where he would put his hands. She smiled when his imagination heated up a little, and then they were reminiscing about the times they’d been intimate, cocooned in an intangible world of memories.

The conversation inevitably led to the threesome at the cabaret, and then the subject of Sephiroth was on the table. Aeris leaned her forehead against the wall as Genesis fell silent, trying to find the right questions to ask.

‘How did he react?’ he finally said. ‘After I was taken away. Did he stay on ShinRa’s side?’

She delicately detailed how the evening had ended, the perimetre that ShinRa was cowering behind, the booking that Sephiroth had asked for. Then she hinted at the fact that he was seriously trying to change his own mind. Genesis was very silent throughout her explanations.

‘You being taken away almost broke him. I think he just needs a nudge,’ Aeris concluded. ‘That’s literally all he would need. And then he’d be on the opposition’s side. I think that’s why they’re being really careful with how to handle him at the moment.’

‘Your relationship with him has changed, hasn’t it?’

Aeris frowned at the change of tack. ‘I… yeah,’ she admitted. ‘We sorted things out. Had a proper conversation. He finally apologised.’

‘Crisis. That took him long enough.’

‘Tell me about it!'

‘I wonder how long it’ll take him to apologise to me,’ Genesis said. ‘For what he did. For the choices he made.’

‘I think just seeing you again will be enough to prompt an apology,’ Aeris said. Then she smiled against the cold plaster of the wall. ‘We’ll deal with it together. All three of us. Once we get out of here.’

‘Yeah,’ Genesis said, his tone defeated. ‘Once we get out of here.’

• • •

  
They finally allowed her to see him the next morning. Hojo had pulled her out early, leading her to the main hall. Thankfully she was never alone with him – she was always flanked by a few assistants, so as they made their way through the familiar corridors, Aeris kept just enough presence of mind to look around herself and try to recognize the architecture and spaces that she’d known so intimately as a child. The sound of the sweeping double-doors, the abundance of stainless steel and that stinging, aseptic smell – it was tugging at her memory and she tried to breathe normally as she followed them through to the hall with the big glass cell. She could practically imagine a smaller version of herself, like a little ghost, running around the corners and peeping out at her from half-open doorways. But she kept her chin up, bearing through it as Hojo led her into the observation room to check her physical state.

‘I have to warn you,’ Hojo drawled in that detached, impersonal way he had of speaking to her, like he hadn’t shattered her life to pieces. ‘Mr Rhapsodos has proved to be a danger to himself in his current state, so when you see him, it is possible that his general attitude might not correspond to how he was before. This is purely due to tranquillizers, and therefore nothing to be alarmed of.’

Her pulse was already threatening to burst from her throat, but upon hearing that she felt it quickening further still. She nodded, her voice caught as she tried to speak. They let her out of the observation room and over to the huge glass cell. When she saw him, she stopped dead in her tracks as the assistants went on to activate the cell door.

Genesis was sitting against a wall of the cell, staring up listlessly at the glass, wearing the customary white of specimens. His red hair was dishevelled, falling over his eyes, his head lolling at a strange angle. Hojo was watching her as she brought her hands to her mouth, brow creasing as she held back a whimper.

‘We had to take all the necessary precautions to ensure that you would not be endangered by proximity.’

‘Genesis would never hurt me,’ Aeris bit out.

The doctor guided her towards a nearby terminal, asking her to lift her dress so that he could press electrodes to her skin. Aeris complied, closing her eyes and concentrating on breathing again as the cold air bit at her naked skin. _Just like any booking_ , she tried to tell herself, _It’s just like any booking._

She trailed electrode strings as she strode into the cell, like an alpinist trailing ropes. Her hair was gathered back into a coiled braid so that it wouldn’t obstruct any of the equipment. They were both scrubbed and ready, bodies plucked of all excess hair and grime and sentiment.

Genesis didn’t even look at her as she strode into the cell, bare feet leaving sweaty prints on the white tiles. She could feel her eyes growing hot as she marched right up to him without eliciting a single reaction from him. At first she thought it might be voluntary; perhaps he didn’t her to look at him and see the hunched shape of his body, how shrunken it was without the glory of self-confidence, without any of the dignity he might’ve possessed before. Perhaps he didn’t want her to see him shrivelled like this, crippled by helplessness. Lacking control over his own body made it a despicable thing, and how she understood him. But when she kneeled in front of him and cupped his face with both hands, he only tilted his head a little, his eyes glazed over as she tried to catch them. It was obvious that he was barely even conscious.

‘Genesis?’ she called softly, and his eyes flickered a little, roaming over her face. ‘It’s me,’ she whispered, edging closer so that she was kneeling between his sprawled legs. She could hardly breathe past the burn in her throat as she stroked his hair back. ‘It’s Aeris.’

He frowned, then – perhaps a reaction, or just a glitch of the nerves.  It was impossible not to scour his skin for any marks, any scars that might show what Hojo had been doing to him all this while. But there was nothing – his skin betrayed as little as a snowfield hiding murder.

‘I would advise you to keep physical contact at a minimum,’ Hojo called. ‘Please use your curative abilities as soon as you are able.’

Aeris glanced over her shoulder at the men in the observation room. For a moment the only sounds were the steady _beeps_ of her and Genesis’s heartbeats.

‘It’ll hurt him,’ Aeris protested.

‘We are here to prevent any negative outcome,’ Hojo drawled. ‘Please comply.’

‘I can’t,’ Aeris breathed, staring despairingly at Genesis, imagining his face creasing up in pain like Sephiroth’s had.

‘If you do not comply, there will be consequences for your friend,’ Hojo said impatiently.

There was no way out. No escape. Aeris held Genesis’s hands as she tried to get in touch with her ability, feeling the energy surging up in her as it rode on her anger and her fear. It didn’t take long for the waves to trickle out of her, the ghostly tendrils enveloping both her and Genesis as the pulsations grew steadily stronger. Immediately he tensed, his face breaking into a frown. Aeris was holding back sobs as she watched her spell ravage him. There was that old obstacle that she’d felt with Sephiroth, but it seemed to cede a little easier in this case – and once they had both risen past it, she saw the haze leaving Genesis’ eyes as he looked at her. Her spell was ridding him of the effect of the drugs, so he seemed to be regaining awareness of himself and his surroundings quite suddenly, as though awakening from a deep sleep. His hands tightened on hers so hard that she winced, and he stared at her desperately.

‘What are they making you do?’ he gasped.

‘I’m sorry,’ Aeris stammered, and she pulled him into a hug. ‘I’m so sorry.’

His arms latched around her, squeezing her so hard she couldn’t breathe. The assistants came into the cell, grabbing her arms to pull her away and she tried to tell them to stop, to let her go, but they wouldn’t listen. Hojo had activated the door just as they were forcing her out of there, and they had barely made it out that Genesis had struggled to his feet, slamming his fists against the glass as he tried to follow, yelling in protest. The sight of him, the clamour of her own shouts and the assistants’ orders to follow them had Aeris in a fit of distress. They had to drag her away from the cell, practically chucking her into the observation room before she could begin to calm down.

‘I told you not to put yourself in danger,’ Hojo snapped at her. ‘He is extremely disorientated and dangerous. The next time you come into contact with him, you should remember that he will stop at nothing to escape. Is that clear?’

The assistants removed the electrodes as he spoke, and Aeris was still trying to calm her racing pulse as she nodded. Her eyes were fixed on Genesis who was still standing in the cell, hands on the glass as he stared back at her. He seemed hardly able to stand up straight. After a moment, he wrapped an arm around his stomach and slid down to his knees. Aeris bit her lip, tears springing to her eyes as she wondered what the spell was doing to him. Then Hojo steered her out of the room, leading her back to her cell.

‘As I said,’ Hojo reminded her as they walked. ‘Physical contact should remain limited. He cannot be trusted, and you are far more precious to us than he is. Is that understood?’

She pulled down her dress as they stopped in front of her cell, still unable to look him in the face. ‘Yes.’

 

• • •  


The cry resounded in the white-washed corridors: ‘Somebody call the professor!’

Plimsoles squeaked against the aseptic tiles as assistants rushed across the lab, calling for Hojo. The transformation was under way, just as it had with Sephiroth after he had experienced Aeris’s spell: the assistants had been monitoring the presence of Jenova cells in Genesis’ body, how their numbers had plunged drastically after the spell, remained at a low plateau for a while, and were now multiplying at full force. Any time now, something would happen, and Hojo had to be there to see.

Genesis was on all fours in the glass cell, arms shaking so hard that it was a wonder he could support himself at all. He was perfectly lucid as he stared at the floor and tried to deal with the ravaging pain in his body; he was panting hard, sweat dripping from him in great beads.

‘What have you done?’ he wheezed, trying to straighten when he saw that Hojo was standing on the other side of the glass, one eye on the computer screens to monitor his subject’s physical changes and one eye on the specimen itself.

‘Let it come, boy,’ Hojo called. ‘Don’t fight it. You must stay conscious.’

 _‘What have you done to me?_ ’ Genesis yelled, his voice dampened by the glass – then the assistants pointed as they huddled there with their clipboards and wide, excited eyes.

‘There’s a protrusion!’

‘It’s not a question of what I’ve done to you,’ Hojo gleefully replied to his specimen. ‘It’s more about what I’m drawing out of you.’

The former Soldier let rip a bloodcurdling shriek as a naked bone jutted out of his back, growing out of his left shoulder blade, and just as with Sephiroth the limb constructed itself in slow, bloody spurts – there was the sound of cracking cartilage and the wet burble of growing flesh, and Genesis panted hard as he listened, each breath voiced with terror. His eyes were wide as he looked into nothingness, trying to realize what was happening, and he brought up one of his hands to his back to try and feel what was dripping so much hot liquid down his back. 

‘Don’t touch it,’ Hojo called. ‘Focus on staying awake.’

‘What is it?’ Genesis all but whimpered. ‘Oh, Goddess – _what the fuck is it – ’_

Then the limb had a sudden growth spurt, cracking into two joints, and Genesis yelled with the pain again, falling down on his elbows as he tucked in his chin and rounded his back.

‘Stay awake, Mr Rhapsodos!’

The scientists looked on in wonder as black feathers began to appear at the base of the limb, covering Genesis’ shoulder blade in a fine duvet before climbing the wing in a satiny flutter. The fine bones were strung with muscles and quickly covered in skin as the cells multiplied and generated the different parts of the wing. Soon the limb was completely covered in long black feathers, elegantly curved as they swept down to touch the floor.

Genesis was weeping with pain as he fought to remain conscious, and Hojo held his breath as he watched his specimen push against the tiles, trying to get to his feet. The wing twitched as he moved his left arm, as though he would have to consciously dissociate arm and wing movement once he was more aware of his extra limb.

Genesis fought to breathe as he managed to get to his feet. Blood ran down his naked back in long lines as he stood upright. His eyes darted over the vague shape he could see in the reflection of the glass walls – there was some monstrous _thing_ curving out of him, folded up in a dark shape behind him. It was gigantic and bile was mounting in his throat as he – he _felt it_ – felt his nervous system joining that thing to him, and how he could potentially control it if he willed himself to.

‘This isn’t real,’ he muttered to himself. ‘This isn’t real, this isn’t real – ’

‘Can you unfold it, Mr Rhapsodos?’ Hojo called. ‘How does it feel? Can you control it?’

‘This is a dream,’ Genesis went on, closing his eyes and imagining that the wing was unfolding, and he felt the foreign muscles shifting, the discomfort of unfamiliar joint movement making him grit his teeth. And in a flutter of feathers, the wing unfurled, stretching out so far that it couldn’t unfold at its maximum capacity because of the wall, feathers pressing up against the glass.  


A few corridors away, Aeris sat in her room, arms around herself as those shrill screams of pain echoed in her mind. She tried very hard not to imagine what her spell had done to him – in any case she would be able to ask him later, so it would be okay. He would be okay.

‘Planet,' she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘Keep him safe. Please, please keep him safe.’

  
• • •  


It was difficult to see Genesis again that evening, when the last she’d heard of him were screams.

She kept her eyes fixed on him as they prepared her in the same way, sticking electrodes to her body. He was on the floor again, cuffed this time to a loop of metal in the centre of the cell floor. She clambered into the cell, striding across the tiles as the _beeps_ of their heartbeats marked a steady pace.

They had asked her to do the same thing. Take his hands. Fill him with this magic that seemed to tear him apart. He was just as drugged as before, head lolling as she kneeled in front of him. Wiping her eyes, Aeris took his hands in hers and waited for the prompt to be given.

‘You may engage now.’

She leaned her forehead against Genesis’s, slowly reaching for her Healing Winds. She tried as best she could to let them build slowly, focusing on the sedatives so that they would be wiped out of his system first. Perhaps she could control it, focus on what to heal and what to leave alone. Genesis gradually rose to consciousness as the pain began to rack through his body. He glanced up at Aeris – they were so close now that she could feel his breaths on her raw, bitten lips.

‘I can’t do this again,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I can’t hurt you.’

‘Aeris,’ he breathed. ‘Do you trust me?’

She stared at him. He seemed lucid and yet so, so tired. She’d never heard him come back into his cell – he must’ve spent all day here, in this miserably empty place. She wondered what they had put him through, what kind of ideas had been dancing in his mind whilst they toyed with his body.

‘I trust you,’ she whispered.

‘Then stop the spell, and untie me. _Now._ ’

Her eyes flickered down to the loop where his wrists were tied with leather cuffs. Slowly, she let her spell dissipate, listening for any protest on Hojo’s part as she reached for the cuffs and started quickly unbuckling them.

Soon enough, Hojo called, ‘Is there a problem?’

‘No problem,’ Aeris called back, hands working on the straps – but the assistants opened the cell door to check on her, and her movements became frantic as they realised what she was doing. Hojo’s voice filled the room as he ordered her to stop – but months of accessorizing erotic play had made her quite efficient in the buckle department. Genesis surged up in seconds, arms coming around her protectively. He gave a groan against her shoulder – she didn’t even have time to ask him what he was doing before there was a strange cracking sound, as though his ribs were breaking. She cried out in terror as something _erupted_ out of his back. In the next second a wall of black feathers had surrounded them.

‘Hold onto me, alright?’ he urged her as the guards stomped into the cell. There was the sound of shots being fired as they tried to take Genesis down with tranquillizers, but the feathers protected them – then Genesis unfurled the wing, whipping it out so that it knocked the guards back against the walls.

Gaia, it was _gigantic –_ the room seemed too small for it as it pressed up against the walls. But she didn’t have time to look because he marched towards the cell door, pulling her along with him, the electrodes snapping off of their bodies. The guards came at them, so Genesis whipped that great wing at them again, making it impossible for the guards to reach them – one of the guards got hurled to the floor, and Genesis stomped down on the man’s throat with a sickening _crack_ , grabbed the man’s weapon and activated the materia therein. Aeris watched as he stood tall, holding a hand to the heavens, and a Bolt spell erupted throughout the entire hall, lighting the place up. The remaining men and assistants doubled up as the electricity covered them.

Genesis yanked Aeris after him and they ran across the hall, his wing folded behind him. Aeris wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming – Gaia, what were they _doing,_ they were going to get themselves killed, this was completely crazy – they came to a specimen elevator that was completely  crowded by Weapons Department crates, and Genesis let her go to tug several of the looser ones open.

‘You’ve got a _wing!_ ’ Aeris shouted, she couldn’t help it – what the hell was that? How –

‘Look for anything we can infuse with magic!’ Genesis replied without looking at her, then he was gunning down the guards, advancing on them and yelling with rage as he brought them down one by one. Aeris looked on, horrified, as he got his hands on a knife and hacked at them like a wild animal, blood covering his forearms like red gloves as he made quick work of the remaining men. He seemed to be even more supple and powerful than she remembered as he danced around their attacks and lashed at them. She was too hypnotized by the sight of him, blood-soaked and crouching over his victims with his raven’s wing curving above him, to even think of moving.

There was the clatter of military boots against metal grating as guards pour in from another entrance, so she snapped out of it, lifting a lid with shaking hands. There were more guns, most of them looking rather broken or missing parts, so she opened as many boxes as she could as Genesis stood between her and the approaching men. A glittering haze of magic filled the air as he cast elementals at the guards, and the sound of crackling energy and shouting men filled her head as she sank her arms into the different boxes – finally she slid her hand around a cool, leather-bound hilt, shouting at Genesis as she lifted a blood-red blade from its storage crate. It was unbelievably heavy; the blade crashed to the floor when she managed to heave it out, holding the hilt with both hands. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea when he’d been locked up and drugged – but then again he certainly didn’t seem to be suffering from any physical impediments _now_.

Genesis was beside her in seconds, feathers caressing her skin as he grabbed the hilt. Aeris rummaged some more, found a long crate that seemed to hold a bunch of quarterstaffs. She lifted one out of it and stood behind him, both of them angling their weapons at the advancing guards.

‘Drop the weapons,’ came Hojo’s voice on some kind of intercom, making her blood freeze. Oh Gaia, what was she thinking? They were surrounded, they had _no_ chance – she had condemned the both of them by believing they ever stood a chance in the first place. ‘Any weapon you find here was left here because they did not pass testing, and are considered biohazards. You will do more harm to yourself than to my guards with it.’

‘I know this blade,’ Genesis replied, his eyes shining with determination. ‘I’ve heard about her. The legendary Rapier, isn’t that her name? She’s a prototype, a result of the secret technology you’re working on. Except she sucks more than mana from a man’s veins, doesn’t she?’ He slid both hands around the hilt reverently as he spoke. ‘Every man who has tested her has seen every last drop of his blood sucked into this blade. Hence the metal’s red colour. Or at least, that’s how the tale goes.’

‘Genesis – ’

That couldn’t be good. But then Aeris’s eyes caught on some kind of engraving on the sword’s pommel – there was a gem encrusted in all that gold, with the letters JP carved into it.

‘You want to know what I think?' Genesis snarled. 'I think human beings aren’t the only things you injected your alien molecules into.  And what if all of those things, humans and objects alike – all of these _toy_ _s_ of yours - what if we were all compatible? Care if I test the theory?’

He reached up under Hojo’s strict orders to stop, and the guards’ cocked their weapons – they opened fire on the professor’s order, but the Barrier Genesis had set up caught the darts even as Aeris was cringing, anticipating impact. Then he caressed the blade with one hand, and a white glow enveloped his fingers as he harmlessly infused it with magic. He swung it down in the next moment, smashing it against the grating, and three ghosts tore out of it as the metal burned with a hot glow – three insubstantial blades shot out from the original, hacking through the line of guards and electrifying them with contained magic.

The stench of burnt flesh pushed its way up Aeris’s nostrils and she was almost gagging on it, but then Genesis had grabbed her wrist again and they were running – he hacked down those who stood in their way, then tore apart the great double-doors serving as an entrance to the hall with two savage swipes.

Red lights flashed as the HQ’s alarm filled their ears. They slapped their way through a second set of double-doors – Aeris barely recognised these corridors, but Genesis seemed to know exactly where he was going as he tugged her to the left, her free hand shooting up for balance as they skirted the corners.

‘Genesis,’ she shouted. 'You weren’t actually _sure_ you could activate that blade without hurting yourself, were you?’

‘No!’ he replies.

‘You’re an _idiot!’_

‘I know!’ he shouted back at her over the alarm.

‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re going to give Sephiroth that nudge he needs.’

They skidded to a halt in front of another great pair of double-doors. He let go of her, infused his blade with fire and sliced through the bolts, before kicking them open.

‘I need you to stay here,’ he said. ‘When I free what’s in this room, you need to lead them to the elevators. Do you remember where they are?’

‘I think so,’ Aeris said with a nod.

‘OK. The doors should give with a high-grade Bolt spell. Here.’  
  
He gave her a couple of green orbs, and Aeris was shaking as she slotted them into her staff.

‘What about you?’ she asked.

‘I’ll be right behind you,’ he told her. ‘We can use what’s in this room to cover our exit.’

She looked into the room ahead – it was so dark that Aeris had to squint as she watched him step inside. Glowing green capsules lined the walls at either side of him. Aeris looked up into the green light as Genesis jogged to the end of the room, trying to make out the vague shapes floating in all that Mako.

She gasped as she recognized those faces. At least, parts of those faces.

‘Genesis,’ she stammered. ‘G-Genesis – ’

But he had his hand on his blade again, white glow swallowing his entire forearms as he concentrated an elemental into its bowels. Aeris stared at him wide-eyed; he stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground as he faced her, hair drifting around his shoulders as the spell made the air around him tremble. His wing was flexing outwards as though readying for flight, and his posture was giving him such a distinctly angelic grace that for a moment Aeris couldn’t do anything else than gape.

‘What are they?’ she called.

‘Clones,’ he called back.

‘But that’s _insane_.’

‘Yeah, I know. You need to step back.’

He swung down the blade again, casting the same phantom spell as before, and those red-hot ghosts bit through the cylindres of Mako, shattering the glass and spilling green everywhere. The Mako surged all around him, soaking the floor and lapping at the invisible Barrier that still surrounded him.

They both stood there and watched, both equally fascinated and horrified, as those monstrous humans dragged air into their lungs and lurched forwards. Aeris whipped her head around when she heard guards clattering towards her down the corridor. She readied her staff in a defensive diagonal in front of her, backing away as a veritable army of hybrids and deformed things began wailing eerily with pain and disorientation.  They dragged themselves towards the doorway, and Aeris was petrified as she waited for them to reach her, whipping her head to the guards and back to them.

The guards slowed to a walk as they saw the deformed humans limping out of the room, making for Aeris. Then there was Hojo’s voice on the intercoms again – ‘STOP THOSE HYBRIDS! SHOOT THEM DOWN!’, and the guards cocked their weapons.

Aeris hurled a Bolt spelt at them, crackling through their armour and sending them staggering backwards. Then she turned and ran.

She felt as though she were running through the halls of her memories, running for her life in the red light of these corridors. She could hear the guards shooting at the monsters – there was the sound of crunching flesh and liquid splattering against hard surfaces – shrill screams reverberated in her ears and she wasn’t even sure how she was even breathing any more as she led the hybrids on.

When she got to the first reinforced door, she infused her staff, glancing over her shoulder fretfully. The hybrids were crowding the corridor, pale eyes on her as they followed her. Two Bolt spells burned straight through the locks. She kicked it open and staggered out into some kind of hallway. The two elevator shafts were right there.

Except there were guards at each door. She hadn’t felt the darts catching her on the chest as she stepped forwards. The four guards had their guns cocked at her, and she barely had the time to say _no, please_ as her energy began to seep from her body. They caught her as she collapsed, and carried her away.

 •

 

‘ _AERIS!’_ Genesis yelled as he saw them leaving with her unconscious in their arms. The monsters were crowding the elevator shafts, warped palms beating against the doors. This might be his only chance to get them out there, a last piece of evidence to shatter ShinRa’s credibility. But he couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t. He gritted his teeth, sent a Bolt spell to the elevator doors so that they crackled and burst apart. The hybrids pulled them further open in a mess of sparks, and there was the sound of shattering glass as they burst straight through the elevators and into the night sky.

Genesis stood, watching them all file out. The wind whistled through the shards of the elevator glass as the winged hybrids flapped their way out, whilst the others simply fell.  His wing flexed and shivered as he imagined hurling himself out there, completely uncertain as to whether he would soar or fall like a dead weight. Then he turned around, sword dripping blood at his side as he prepared for the advancing guards.

• • •


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably should've cut a few lengths out of this one, but nostalgia strikes again! Do tell me if the political stuff drags on, I hope it's interesting/relevant and doesn't read too much like a newspaper. :'D Thanks so much for reading!

• • • 

The morning that Sephiroth had started reading, he’d meticulously sorted Hollander’s paperwork into chronological piles. By mid-afternoon, the files were strewn across half the living room floor, littered with cigarette ash and stained by sepia rings where Sephiroth had set down his mug. By the time he’d gotten through the bulk of the documents pertaining to project G, he knew he didn’t have to keep reading to give himself any more reasons. It was necessary to leave ShinRa. However much the idea made his heart gallop and his eyes drift sightlessly as he imagined a life without them, he knew Angeal and Genesis had been right to defect. And he’d known it for a long time. Searching for more proof would just be procrastination, delaying the inevitable out of fear.

It was time to act.

He picked up his phone, sorted through the messages that Lazard had left him. He had pacified the director by telling him he needed more time, that he was still grieving. But Lazard had still kept him up to date of the state of the Company. They were in a panic about the ongoing mass defections from Soldier, especially since Sephiroth wasn’t there to keep up morale. And to crown the whole debacle, there were strikes happening all over the Planet, showing solidarity to Midgar. The cities in question were _allowing them to happen_ , their police forces refusing to help the implanted ShinRa troops to pacify the crowds. It was a nightmare. Sephiroth had always been the key to the relationship between ShinRa and Soldier – and whilst Lazard understood the depths of his loss, he kept telling him to remember his duty.

Sephiroth wanted to laugh. His duty. Lazard said it as though it was as unavoidable as fate, the word of Gaia herself, and yet all it consisted of was enforcing more lies _,_ the same kind he’d been spoon-fed since childhood.

His eyes lingered on Aeris’s name in his saved numbers. He had tried calling her about seven times throughout the day. Worry clenched at his abdomen as he recalled the images he’d received earlier that morning, of some kind of struggle. It had been her, it had to be. Perhaps they’d caught her at the council. Why the hell had he brought her over there in his own _car?_ Both of them had been too wrapped up in their goddamned amorous haze to remember Tseng’s warning. ShinRa had promised consequences. He could only wonder what they were. Gaia, if Hojo had something to do with it…

He clenched a hand into a fist. Called her for the last time that day. Stared out the window at the molten sunset as he listened to her voicemail message for the umpteenth time.

‘Aeris. It’s Sephiroth,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Please call me back as soon as you get this. Are you in trouble? What’s going on? You need to call me, alright? Speak soon.’

He looked down at his phone again as he hung up, lingering on her name before clicking through Lazard’s last message. Apparently they were organizing a public speech for the following morning – they needed to recover the company’s credibility, as they were losing more and more support, both within the city and internationally. The preferred plan of action was to get the mayor to speak from the Midgar plaza, if Sephiroth and Zack could be there to protect him; otherwise, they’d have to broadcast it from inside the HQ.

Sephiroth tried to imagine what the mayor would say. No doubt he’d remind everyone of how ingrained Mako was in their everyday lives, and how dependent they were on ShinRa for the smooth functioning of world-wide Mako distribution. He’d bring out the same old numbers and sources predicting failure of any other type of energy resource to replace Mako globally, even in the event of a slow and gradual shift away from Mako. _There is simply too much demand, too much immediate dependency on Mako. You need us._ In the end it always boiled down to that, however strongly the anti-ShinRa sentiment had risen during past election years. Even if there was enough legal proof now to shut the company down for good, even if the Green party promised to handle the resource shift as well as they could, people trusted ShinRa to deliver. However many wars ShinRa had waged, however many souls they had tortured. People understood and feared their power. Until now, they had had an iron grasp on what the truth was, what the people needed, and ultimately how their Mako empire could be run. They had wielded the utmost control, refusing even the idea that anyone else may take the helm.

Sephiroth went to his study. Opened the embossed crate where his rarest materia were lovingly sorted, each of them set in their own gold-rimmed slot. He picked out the yellow Manipulate orb, turned it in his fingers for a moment. The ownership of Manipulate materia was extremely regulated, and ShinRa had monopoly over the Mako fountain from which the original formations came. They had trusted him with it because they knew he would never use it for political purposes. He looked at the distorted reflection of the room, how the desk and bookshelves wrapped around the polished sphere, how his own body stretched into an long-limbed aberration.

He could see it so clearly. The purpose for which he had been made. Like the machines that were forged in the deep pulsing hearts of ShinRa’s weapon factories, he had been spun from their dirty gold and delusions of grandeur. They had only ever been powerful as long as they had him. As long as he had allowed them to use him.

He heard Genesis’s words again, snarled and accusatory. _Most powerful man in the world, too scared to take off his own shackles._ The memory made his fingers tighten around the materia. He’d been right. And all Sephiroth had been able to do was lash out, deny his own agency. Deny how the fate of ShinRa had always sat on his shoulders.

He tenderly slotted the Manipulate materia to his bracer, holding it up to the light of the desk lamp. Then he called Lazard.

‘Yes. It’s me,’ he said. ‘Thank you for being patient with me. Have them prepare the outdoor speech for tomorrow morning. I’ll be there.’ 

 

• • •

 

Knowing that Sephiroth had just come out of two full days of grieving made the reunion more than a little awkward. Zack was notified the morning of the speech, that Sephiroth would be arriving shortly to take command of security. They met briefly in Lazard’s office, Sephiroth offering him a glance from over his pauldrons as he stood in front of the desk in full battle armour. Zack had no idea what to do with himself. Smile in greeting? Bow in condolence? Turn away and ignore him? He opted for a neutral, alert expression as he grabbed his headgear, coming close enough to see just how terrible Sephiroth looked. His skin was even more translucent than usual, the half-moons under his eyes darkened by sleep deprivation.

Zack held up his chin. Technically, his superior was just as guilty as Genesis had been, of crimes that Zack wished he wouldn’t have to associate with him. It wasn’t up to Zack to feel like shit. But what with the rapidly diminishing Soldier force and Zack’s own wavering faith regarding what he was still even doing there, he couldn’t help but feel the guilt like a stone in his stomach . Since his disastrous phonecall with Aeris, he had felt more and more like an imposter, fighting for causes that weren’t his own, charging headfirst into situations that could’ve been avoided if he’d only stepped back and analysed why he felt it was so necessary to intervene. He didn’t even know if he should even accuse Sephiroth any more, nor whom it would serve for him to remain angry.

He marched out at Sephiroth’s side, listening to the General’s orders, mentally mapping out how Sephiroth wanted the men to be deployed. Sephiroth stressed the fact that Zack was to listen to his command, no matter what. Zack nodded. Nothing personal was said – it all remained strictly professional. Once it was time to disperse around the plaza, Zack looked up at Sephiroth’s haggard expression. Repressed the urge to ask why, to ask if he was alright. Nodded and saluted before turning away. 

The stage was set up in front of the HQ entrance. What little city-bound Seconds and Thirds had remained under ShinRa’s command were deployed all around, following Zack’s instructions. Before anyone of significance even made an appearance, there were curious crowds forming in the streets all around, rioters and civilians alike, held back by the security perimetre. Sephiroth stood on the stage once it was all ready, holding up a hand to cast a Wall spell in a great glittering dome around the whole set-up.   

A blast of trumpets heralded the arrival of the mayor. The reaction was divided between jeers and applause as he came up to the podium. Zack, Sephiroth and their best Seconds stood behind him, hands behind their backs as they kept an eye on the crowds.

The mayor was a small, average-looking man, hardly filling out his formal grey suit as he stood over the podium. His hands flattened over his prepared speech, wide eyes scanning the lines like it was the first time he was seeing it. He was known to be a poor orator, to have difficulty engaging with the crowds, to even look down at his papers like a schoolboy reciting from a textbook.  Zack looked out at the waiting crowds, the ShinRa-approved cameramen standing at the foot of the stage to broadcast. He wondered if Aeris was out there watching. If Angeal was sitting in front of a TV wherever the rest of the riot leaders hid, shaking his head at the sight of his star pupil clinging to the Company, clinging to the idea that Genesis had been wrong out of sheer spite.

 Gaia, what was he doing here?

The mayor started speaking.

‘Citizens of Midgar. We have heard you. On behalf of the Midgar Democratic Party, I would like to extend my formal apologies to the workers and families who may have suffered at the hands of ShinRa Electric Company, and the Mako dependency we now live with.’

Zack glanced up. Something was wrong. He looked at the mayor, how he seemed to be standing more still than usual, his posture straight-backed and elegant. Solemn. He wasn’t even looking at his speech as he spoke.

‘As a city and a world-wide community, we have spent the last three decades believing that Mako is the answer. That Mako has allowed us all to thrive. And to a certain extent, it has. All over the world, we have been able to raise living standards, to drastically reduce unemployment, to bring the wonders of modern civilization to the most remote areas of the Planet. But in ShinRa’s frantic civilizing of the world, it has always been deemed unproductive to think of the human costs. The sacrifices that have been made for what our Eastern society deems ‘necessary’ for cultural advancement.’

Zack’s earpiece was buzzing with voices. There was Tseng, speaking on behalf of President Shinra, asking, _what the hell is going on down there? This isn’t the speech we agreed on._ Lazard telling them to interrupt the speech and use Dispel, that Angeal might be Manipulating the mayor and having him say what the opposition wanted. Zack glanced over at Sephiroth, who looked calm, hands behind his back, face set. He seemed to be concentrating on a fixed point in the crowd.

‘Sephiroth?’ Zack asked.

‘Stand down,’ Sephiroth replied. ‘No one can breach that Wall spell with any Commands. The mayor is going off-script by himself.’

‘Then somebody _stop him_ ,’ Lazard seethed.

‘Here is what I know,’ the mayor continued. Zack stared hard at the man’s face for any traces of magic. There was a definite smell of ozone, but that could’ve just been Sephiroth maintaining the Wall spell. The mayor was sweating as he spoke, his fingers twitching against the podium. ‘ShinRa Electric Power Company is responsible for a lot of good things, yes. Reduced costs of electricity, reduced costs of fuel, world-wide access to comforts we would have difficulties living without. But they have made themselves the only possible option. They have endeavoured to have full control over Mako extraction. Which means they will always have the last word. Even regarding our general elections, which have been corrupt for decades – and the denial of crimes against humanity, of which they are most certainly guilty.’

Zack could hear frantic voices in his earpiece – techies were being told to cut the mics, cameramen were being urged to shut off their broadcasts. But no one was moving. Somehow nobody was responding. Either the journalists and techies had balls of steel to stand up to ShinRa’s direct orders during a mayoral speech, or someone had Stopped or Manipulated the whole crowd. The doors to the ShinRa HQ were opening, Turks spilling out to enforce orders hands-on.

Zack turned his head. Looked at Sephiroth. The man had his hands at his back, like the rest of them. Then, very discreetly, he lifted two fingers. And the Turks slotted in between the Peacekeepers and Soldiers.

Zack’s mouth went dry. He was doing it. He was orchestrating this. Only a handful of Turks kept moving, surely those who had the equipment to render them immune to Commands. Tseng hurried up to the podium. He waved a hand as he went, and Zack felt the Dispel brush across his belly, surging through the crowd as it searched for any enchanted bodies to exorcise. The mayor faltered in his speech, looked down at his text. Then he immediately hopped back on track;

‘I have let all of this happen. I have been at the head of this government for ten years, and before me, my party has had just as much monopoly on Midgar’s political landscape as ShinRa has had on the world. And I hear your cry for change. I hear your suffering. I agree that it is time for us to step down.’

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Tseng snapped as he brushed past Zack – he strode right up to the mayor, grabbed him around the waist, leaned in to the mic. ‘Apologies. The mayor’s speech is being tampered with by magic. For your own safety, I would advise you to disperse.’

There was an upheaval of shouts from the crowd, the Peacekeepers breaking out of their stasis to enforce the protective perimetre. It happened too fast for Zack to even step forwards – one moment the mayor was struggling in Tseng’s grip, and the next, he was standing by the podium, Tseng’s gun in his hand, the barrel pressed under his own chin. Tseng froze, hands up as though to show he meant the man no harm.

‘ _Somebody cast Stop on that man! NOW!’_ Lazard shouted into the Soldiers’ earpieces. Frantic, Zack lifted a hand – several of the Seconds responded to the command, practically battering the mayor with Stop commands. But the spells seemed to sluice off him like beads of water over metal. Only Sephiroth stayed stone still, watching it happen, his mouth parted as though in concentration.

‘With all the authority vested in me by my position,’ the mayor went on, ‘I want to validate everything that the Green party have been accusing us of. I want the people of the world to know that my party is corrupt. That I am corrupt. I want the people of the world to know that in the process of aggrandizing their business, ShinRa have engaged in child kidnappings, murder, human experimentation, and all-around perjury. They have put the world under surveillance. They have ignored the basic and fundamental laws of democracy. And my party is guilty of profiting off of all of those things. That is why I urge you to vote for ecology, free enterprise, and a world without ShinRa Electric Power Company. Do not be passive bystanders and allow this monster to continue living, as I have. I am so sorry.’

He squeezed his eyes shut, and pulled the trigger.

Blood and muck spattered across the Soldiers who were standing directly behind him. Immediately everyone burst out of their stasis like so many statues coming to life, Peacekeepers lunging for cameramen and journalists, Soldiers holding back the crowd and encouraging them to disperse. Zack watched, bewildered, as Sephiroth immediately stepped forwards and caught the mayor under the armpits, dragging him off towards the HQ entrance like he _hadn’t_ been forcing those words out of the man’s mouth, forcing that gun barrel against his chin. 

Zack followed orders blindly for the next ten minutes. He helped Sephiroth paint successive Wall spells over the ShinRa HQ, Lazard seemingly convinced that Angeal was behind the Manipulate spell.. The crowds were oddly silent, shocked enough by the mayor’s apparent suicide to accept to disperse relatively quietly  as the Peacekeepers pushed them back.

‘ – a _catastrophe,_ you were all _there_ and you didn’t do _anything,_ what is Soldier even _for_ if you’re incapable of preventing something like this _– ’_ The president himself had decided to pitch in, yelling into his Soldiers’ ears.

‘Hold on, hold on, we can turn this around,’ Lazard interrupted. ‘If we act quickly enough this could work to our advantage.’

‘ _Our advantage?’_ roared Shinra. ‘Our candidate just shot himself in the _fucking head – ’_

‘We have the army,’ Lazard said. ‘Sephiroth, go to the podium, remind the crowds of who the ShinRa army endorses. Remind them that the Greens are no better than the MDP if they’re capable of Manipulating someone to commit suicide.’

Zack glanced at Sephiroth as they helped ShinRa staff get back to the safety of the HQ. A feeling of foreboding clunked into Zack’s stomach as he watched the man turn around, heading back out towards the deserted stage. Heart pounding, Zack switched off his earpiece and jogged to catch up to him.

‘Sephiroth,’ he urged. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Following orders,’ Sephiroth told him curtly, before shrugging Zack off and stepping out into the sunlight.

 

• • •

Gem couldn’t believe her eyes.

They were all crowding around the TV in the speakeasy of the Blue Dragon, Angeal having to fend people off as they all piled on him and cheered, brandishing their pints in his face.

‘I’m telling you, it wasn’t me,’ he insisted, his face white. Eventually Elfé barked at everyone to settle down – the news reporters were saying something about Sephiroth giving an interview to explain what had just happened and how ShinRa would be dealing with it. 

‘Who the hell was it then, if it wasn’t you?’ Gem said, glancing over at him.

‘What worries me is that there aren’t many possible answers to that question,’ Angeal said. ‘Either it was Tseng, or, well…’

A hush fell across the room. The cameras zoomed in on Sephiroth’s smooth face as he stood at the blood-spattered podium, the low-angle giving him all the dignity of an emperor.  He took a moment to collect his thoughts as the reporter went on explaining how Soldier did not in fact belong to the state, but to ShinRa, which was something that people routinely forgot.

‘I stand by the mayor’s position,’ Sephiroth finally said into the mics. Cameras flashed as he stood tall and calm. ‘As General of Soldier, I hereby declare that I will no longer be endorsing ShinRa’s views. My departure marks the final fracture between ShinRa and the Soldier program. The world’s primary military force should not be commanded by businessmen who have no moral compass. As there is a probability that this event will precipitate early elections, I will help the council to supervise the voting process and make sure there is no longer any ballot tampering. And then I will supervise the transition of Soldier from corporate control to governmental control. I will regard any Soldier who remains loyal to ShinRa as my enemy. That is all.’

 The abruptness of Sephiroth’s words sent chills down Angeal’s spine. For a moment, no one reacted. No one spoke. Sephiroth had been the face of ShinRa for so long – it was as disturbing to hear those words from his mouth as it would’ve been to watch a man peel his own face off. And for him to do it right there, into the microphone, standing calmly in front of the HQ. It would’ve probably had less shock factor if he’d hurled a Firaga spell right at the immaculate façade of the ShinRa tower.

He knew his own power. And he was finally doing something with it other than letting ShinRa abuse of it.

Angeal was still trying to process what it meant for Sephiroth to be defecting with the whole goddamn army when Hegemony let out a _whoop_ of pure glee, which set off a landslide of celebrations, laughter, people hugging each other as they watched Sephiroth stepping down from the podium, silver hair drifting as the cameras numbly followed him down. Reporters were jogging up to him, asking for statements and clarifications, but Angeal couldn’t hear them over the clamour inside the speakeasy, and then he couldn’t even see the TV anymore with Gem’s Mohawk in his face as she hugged him.

He squeezed her back hard, letting himself be caught up in the hilarity of ShinRa losing face on international TV. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes as he imagined what Genesis’s reaction would’ve been. How different things could’ve been if they’d done this from the start. Three Firsts, stepping down in unison.

 

• • •

 

There wasn’t much to say when Angeal met up with Sephiroth at the city council. They had both headed that way after the debacle of the mayoral speech had been cleared up. Crowds of celebrating rioters followed them, walking with impunity now that the political state of the city was up in chaos and that ShinRa was grasping for its army and police force and finding only dregs.

These past few months, their friendship had only existed on either side of Genesis, eyes averted while unspoken grudges slowly fermented between them. Now they were face to face again and Angeal could see that man he had encountered on the battlefields of Wutai, the one who had always been feral around the edges. Uncontrollable. Holding power in his hands like a child holding glass baubles. Angeal had always wondered at the carnage a man like that could wreak if left to his own devices. He remembered those times where he had helped him come down from the pulse of bloodlust that followed certain important missions. Him and Genesis had both needed calming back then, their eyes spitting Mako and their teeth grinding. Angeal wondered if Sephiroth was repeating those same mantras that Angeal had given him, in order to keep his rebellion contained to cold hard politics.

Sephiroth’s pace picked up as they reached one another in front of the crowded council parking lot. Ministers and representatives milled around their expensive cars, watching as ShinRa’s sentient weapons came close enough for collision. The split-second of emotion that Angeal caught in Sephiroth’s face – a frown, his careful neutrality cracking, allowing all the pain and grief and anger through – it took Angeal’s breath away. Then there were arms wrapping around pauldrons, metal clanking awkwardly as they embraced. Angeal thumped Sephiroth on the back, and cameras flashed as they held each other close.

‘The army?’ Angeal asked as they drew away again.

‘I started notifying our international operatives about my intentions last night,’ Sephiroth said as they began heading for the council hall. ‘Most agree with the course of action. Those who don’t have been given the option between retirement and incarceration.’

Beyond the relief at having Sephiroth on their side, Angeal couldn’t help but fear the outcome of such a bold move. Even with the respect and quasi-total control Sephiroth wielded over Soldier, there were still those who were ShinRa loyalists, regardless of what Sephiroth might say. There was no way such a shift could possibly happen peacefully, with their army being spread world-wide _and_ forced to split down the middle like this.

‘What’s the ratio for the moment?’

‘We have the majority,’ Sephiroth said. ‘A lot of them were already thinking about deserting after you and Genesis left. So this came as welcome news to most. Our captains started clamping down on the dissenters last night.’

‘Gaia,’ Angeal said, shaking his head. ‘This is going to be a mess.’

‘I know. There’s still a lot to be done,’ Sephiroth said. His face was drawn, his expression not the kind that Angeal would’ve expected of someone who had finally cast off the dead weight that had been dragging him down all his life. ‘But if we want this to work, we’re going to have to take it step by step. ShinRa still have the Turks, and their roots are still planted deep in the world-wide market. As cathartic as it must’ve been to lead an open revolt, the only efficient way to bring them down is to methodically dismember them limb by limb.’

The chilling violence of his words told Angeal all he needed to know of Sephiroth’s true desires. They slowed as the council staff began to flock around them, ushering them inside. Angeal placed a hand on his friend’s back, leaning in to mutter, ‘Your restraint is admirable. You and I both know they deserve much worse.’

Sephiroth clenched his jaw. ‘As much as spilling real blood might tempt me too, murdering their public image is far more important. We need to keep the moral upper hand. So it’s vital not to give in to mindless violence.’

‘You’re right. And I’m proud of you for making the right decision.’

Sephiroth glanced at him, his expression still guarded, as though he was wary that letting out a single emotion might open the way for everything else he was keeping contained. Angeal gave him a small smile of encouragement.

‘You did the right thing,’ Angeal insisted. ‘And Genesis would be just as proud as I am.’

 

• • •

 

The next few days was spent in a blur of paperwork, administrative meetings, phone calls and cold coffee. Crisply pressed suits brushed against metal pauldrons in the corridors. Sephiroth conference-called his way into his eightieth hour without sleep. He was waging a long-distance battle with Lazard and ShinRa, ordering his troops to pull out of places that had been occupied for the last few decades, leaving space for the cities’ own police forces to retake control and for independent training programs to be set up. Angeal deployed their forces to protect the media, and for the first time, stories about ShinRa’s deplorable policies came to light, the first of which were detailed explanations of the extents of ShinRa’s censorship. With the help of the ex-Soldier force, they stripped entire news studios and printing companies of surveillance equipment, showing it to the cameras. Journalists came forwards with their stories of police brutality and harassment. There were more strikes, more riots as people demanded for their loved ones to be released from jail in light of ShinRa’s fall from grace, but there was simply so much to do that their demands had to be delegated. Sephiroth allowed important figures to be set free, as a symbol of good faith, before returning to his work.

The Midgar council were not all particularly rejoiced about the turn of events. But they knew better than to go against Sephiroth’s wishes. To them, Sephiroth had become the very thing that he was trying to bring down – he wielded just as much tyrannical authority over the city’s politics as ShinRa had, and the council staff didn’t even try to hide their accusations and they grudgingly bent to his will. At least ShinRa’s patronage had come with benefits.

In the scant few minutes of privacy he could grapple, Sephiroth would call Aeris, or try to get some indication of where she might be. There was nothing more infuriating than trying to trace someone’s whereabouts who had only legally existed in Upworld paperwork for a couple of days. The Enemy Skill materia was still lodged in his bracer, so one afternoon he stood at the desk he was using in the council building, feeling a little silly as he closed his eyes and breathed out. He had no idea what to kind of message to send, how to even send it. Did he simply think up images? Smells? Sensations? He tapped into the materia, feeling goosebumps spread over his skin, and tried to open his mind. It was impossible to clear his head of what had happened over the past few days. Images of the rioters and Angeal clogged his mindspace. He tried to focus on Aeris. Her long white throat, her face, those plump red lips. His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he let the absence of her throb through him.

‘Where are you?’ he said out loud, hoping the message would transmit. Then there had been a knock on his door, and he’d been forced to let the magic simmer down.

It had happened partway through a conversation he was having with several journalists and their cameramen. The images bloomed in his mind, unbidden, cutting off completely from his own thought process. He stumbled in what he was explaining as he saw long white corridors, people in lab coats pulling a girl into a room full of medical equipment. The sight of two thighs lifted, a doctor leaning between them. Electrodes. The beep of machinery. His heart clenched as he recognised the ShinRa labs. 

Cold fingers ran down his spine as she confirmed his suspicions. Hojo had her. But as much as he wanted to wrench the throng of journalists aside and march straight to the labs, he knew he’d have to think about an appropriate course of action later. He couldn’t just leave things unfinished. He tried to shake away the images, concentrate on the here and now, but then he could feel cold plaster against his hands, and there was a voice in his ears – deep, broken, and painfully familiar. The journalists prompted him uselessly as his eyes glazed over. He could see Genesis’s face, the shape of him curled in a clean white bed, wearing the white cotton of specimens.

_He’s alive. Genesis is alive._

He excused himself, headed for one of the bathrooms, locked himself inside. Reached for the images again. But Aeris had fallen silent. Perhaps waiting for a response. He clutched at the edge of the sink, feeling like the restless energy that animated him was wavering, falling out of his body. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t panic now. Not now. Perhaps he had only heard what he wanted to hear; seen what he wanted to see. How could he prove that Aeris had even spoken to him at all? It was all in his head. And he hadn’t slept for such a long time, too. Maybe he had imagined it. He would have to ask her again, perhaps tonight, ask her to clarify. In the meantime, he took a deep breath, put a hand on the doorknob, and went back outside to continue shaping Midgar in the people’s image.

The next step was to organise the early elections. Photos of Sephiroth shaking Dominic Aguillard’s hand, the leader of the Green party, circulated all over the world. He very conspicuously showed the same camaraderie to other party leaders except for those who had explicitly benefited from ShinRa’s patronage in the past. Polling stations were set up and heavily guarded, and slowly, the newly affixed polling day approached.

Midgar was heaving with activity. There had never been so many people in the streets, rejoicing, talking freely over beers, bringing their decade-old complaints to their Sector’s Soldier-manned police stations.  Rioters went back to their lives, went back to work, and slowly the city’s great gears were grinding again. Sephiroth was getting headaches over the counter-protests, the ShinRa loyalists who were trying to take to the streets, though they hardly had the numbers to rival the previous movement. It was disheartening to have to use the same tactics as ShinRa had to deal with the chaos – mass incarceration was not something that Sephiroth equated with new freedom he was trying to help instore. But it was vitally important for the elections to go through undisturbed, and he could see no other way of smoothing out the state of the city.

It had been four days since the mayor shot himself when Angeal found Sephiroth, head down on his desk, having collapsed from sleep deprivation. He’d jerked awake upon feeling Angeal’s hand on his back.

‘You should go home,’ Angeal told him. ‘I haven’t seen you take so much as a nap in ages. Go and get some rest. I’ll finish this.’

Sephiroth had protested feebly, but there was no convincing Angeal once the man had set his mind on something. The truth was, Sephiroth was deathly afraid of what might happen if he so much as closed his eyes for twenty minutes – ShinRa had always had a way of falling on their feet, and he was trying his hardest to not let that happen. But he allowed himself to be ushered out, giving Angeal one last nod before he turned around and headed for the taxis.

 

• • •

 

President Shinra stayed in the same position all throughout Lazard’s presentation. He was sitting at the very end of his long conference table like a drop of water clinging to the end of a leaf, hunched and rounded as he steepled his fingers in front of his mustache. He said nothing as Lazard explained the extent of the damage that Sephiroth was doing to their Soldier program, and by extension, to ShinRa’s global authority. Hell, they couldn’t even call it ‘their’ Soldier program any more. What little troops had remained loyal to them were spread thin, and were being arrested as they spoke.

Every single day for the past four days, Lazard had essentially had the same job as a doctor carefully picking out euphemisms to explain which part of their patient’s body had been chopped off. Today, with the confirmation that Zack Fair had also gone AWOL, it was the balls. He’d been the last Soldier who wielded any kind of authority approaching that of the Firsts. And he was gone.

The president got up slowly whilst the rest of the ShinRa board members insulted Lazard, accusing him for all of it, for not having prevented the damages. It had been a festival of accusations lately, with each board member accusing every other department than their own, though they all gleefully pointed in Lazard’s direction whenever they had the chance. The truth was, it was the fault of ghosts, it was the fault of the entire education program that the Science Department had chosen to give to Sephiroth and Hollander’s boys. It was the fault of a myriad of bad decisions that none of them could do anything about, now.

Their allies were dropping off faster than ever. Sephiroth was easily retaking Mako plants all over the globe, retaking natural Mako fountains and arresting the billionaires who had profited from it all. Apparently there were plans to sell the reactors to each province in which they had been erected, giving control of Mako extraction to foreign governments. The hand-over would be done upon official agreements to let Mako usage dwindle whilst other energy sources slowly took over.

ShinRa Corp had become a sinking ship, and no one had the dignity to blame their own lack of judgment. President Shinra looked down at the city that was built around his headquarters, a vile body acting up against its own head. He wanted nothing more than to bomb the whole lot.

The argument within the conference escalated to a brawl, and Scarlet had to bring in guards to break it up. President Shinra scowled as he banged on the table to regain their attention.

‘Ifrit’s fucking horns, are we animals in here?’ he growled. ‘We have never been this low, I will agree with you on that. But let’s focus on the advantages we still have. Even with Sephiroth going on a goddamned rampage, nobody can afford to stop buying our product from one day to the next. And we can make sure the new owners of our Mako plants fuck up distribution and drive home the fact that _nobody_ can do this job better than we can. We also know that either Sephiroth or Angeal Manipulated the mayor, so we can throw them deep into that legal nightmare before they get too excited. And with Hojo’s new project, we still have a chance to get back on our feet, I can assure you of that. We still have options, people, we still have strengths here, don’t go losing sight of that – ’

The door to the conference room burst open. Everyone looked around as a lab assistant spilled into the room, lab coat and glasses askew as he panted.

‘We have a big problem,’ he said.

• • •

 

Gem had been notified by her Hounds that Zack had been sighted, and was heading for the council building. She’d been having a pint with several rioters she’d befriended, so she got up, leaving her beer half-full on the tabletop as she excused herself and strode away.

He wasn’t apologizing to Angeal before going through her. She gritted her teeth all the way to the council, telling her people to hold him until she’d gotten there. She saw him from afar, black spikes combed back, looking miserable as he paced up and down the pavement while ex-Soldiers and Hounds barred the way.

When he saw her face he went white. She fully expected him to turn tail and scamper straight back into ShinRa’s lap. But miraculously, he stood still until she’d marched right up to him, close enough to whack him. Fingers tightening around the brass knuckles she’d recently acquired, she caught him right on the temple, making his head snap to the side. He stepped back, reeling as a line of blood trickled down his face.

‘You _knew!_ ’ Gem shouted. ‘You knew he was right. And you knew how much he meant to me. But you still fucking did it.’

‘Gem – ’

He didn’t even try to catch her wrist as she punched him again and again, in the face, in the stomach.

‘How could you be so – fucking – _stupid_ – ’ Gem growled between punches. When Zack finally caught her she was panting, her face creased with rage.

‘You’re the one who told me what he did to Aeris,’ he said. ‘I know it wasn’t my place to hand out any retribution, but – ’

Gem’s drawn-on eyebrows had sky-rocketed up her face. ‘You’re telling me you did it because of _that?_ ’

He didn’t have time to say anything more. She hit him hard, and then signaled for two ex-Seconds to grab him.

‘I don’t even know what to fucking say to you,’ Gem snapped as they headed through the council car park. ‘But Angeal has even more reason than I do to be pissed, so I’ll let you deal with him.’

They practically dragged him through the council building, Gem holding up her chin, gleeful at the imminent castration that she was leading Zack towards. As soon as they’d burst into the office that Angeal was occupying, Gem expected there to be a shouting match, a long sermon, a heart-felt apology from Zack that might involve him kneeling and touching his head to the floor. But instead they just stood in front of Angeal’s desk whilst the man finished typing something out, an uncomfortable silence stretching on as they waited for him to react.

Once he was done, Angeal looked up at Zack calmly. Then he said,

‘The Turks have been sighted tracing a perimetre around an ‘unsafe zone’ near one of our polling stations. Zack, go with Hegemony and check it out. I’ll send a few Thirds with you.’

‘Wait - _what?’_ Gem exploded, whilst Zack just looked confused.

‘Don’t we – shouldn’t we – ?’ he stammered, but Angeal crushed him with another look.

‘Are you here to help us, or not?’

‘Yeah, I mean, that’s what I – ’

‘Then you have your orders. Report back to me once you know what’s going on. Dismissed.’

‘Angeal,’ Gem started in protest, but he’d already gone back to his computer. ‘I was on a break,’ she attempted feebly, and he just glanced up at her as though to say, _too bad._

 ‘The Thirds have the coordinates. They’ll meet you at the entrance. Go.’

She glared at Zack, and marched ahead of him down the corridor. She knew both Angeal and Sephiroth had an inhuman amount of work on their hands, but still. Zack had gotten off far too easily.

•

They both led their patrol through the pitch black streets, a flock of Hounds and ex-Soldiers at their backs. With the absence of neon lights, the darkness all around them seemed impregnated with all sorts of phantasmagoric creatures. They contributed to the menagerie with that primal fear that city kids were no longer used to, their imagination pouring from them as steadily as the fog from their mouths. It was easy to see who were the greener recruits, judging by how many times their feet caught in the paving stones when they were too busy putting their noses up in the air as though trying to flair the boogie man. Of course, they had reason to be scared, since none had seen Midgar so defaced and hostile as it was now.

Zack was the only completely nonchalant one, shoulders squared and fingers relaxed, his gait remaining supple but alert as he led their men through the Sector. He clearly knew his own strength, and trusted it enough not to fear what might be out there.

They didn’t talk much at first. It was – _annoying_ that Gem felt safe with him there. She was still angry enough to be able to push him into the jaws of whatever monsters they encountered.

‘Hey, Gem – ’ he began after a while.

‘Don’t even fucking try it,’ she snarled.

 ‘No, I just wanted to ask something.’ He tried hard not to grit his teeth as he said this: ‘I know I stayed with ShinRa for the wrong reasons. I wanted to defend Aeris against both of them. Genesis and Sephiroth. I was angry at them for what they’d done to her. But when I saw her, she just… she acted like she was over the whole assault. Like none of it even counted any more and that the three of them were as tight as three peas in a pod and I just… I don’t understand.’

Gem glared over at him. ‘So was there an actual question in there or was it all just the usual dumb shit spilling out your mouth?’

Zack frowned as they walked. ‘I guess I just want to know if you understood the situation better than I do. What kind of relationship Aeris had with both Sephiroth and Genesis. Because I don’t get it. I don’t get how she could be so broken up about people who essentially made her life hell.’

‘I don’t see how Genesis made her life hell,’ Gem said. ‘He only ever opened doors for her. Gave her opportunities. Maybe he was pushy at first but that’s all it ever was. So why the fuck did you think you were in the right to punish him for Sephiroth’s crime?’

She was right. He’d focused so much of his hatred on Genesis, on the instigator, the one who wasn’t quite as terrifying to go up against. They walked on in silence for a moment, checking the dark windows, shining torchlights down the maws of unlighted alleyways.

‘If you only knew how much he already punished _himself_ for things that Sephiroth was guilty of,’ Gem went on. ‘You don’t know who the guy was. You only ever had a fraction of the facts. And I don’t go judging what Aeris feels about those two men, because like you, I also only have a fraction of the facts. And intelligent people don’t act on fucking fractions.’

‘Gem, you know that’s – ’ Zack began, but they were interrupted. Everyone heard it – everyone in the Sector must’ve heard it. A shrill, bloodcurdling screech, filling the silence like a black splatter of fear across a blank canvas.

‘Shit,’ Gem breathed. ‘What the hell?’

Their men started murmuring, so they all grouped together.

‘Where the hell did that come from?’

‘Sounded like it came from up there. Where the tunnel is.’

Zack led the way. They made their way over to the gaping tunnel entrance, several ex-Soldiers shining their green Mako torches ahead to chase away the darkness, revealing a humanoid shape reclining against the tunnel wall.

Zack narrowed his eyes, and Gem unconsciously huddled closer to him as a second shape detached itself from the darkness ahead.

‘What the fuck?’ she murmured.

There was a deep groaning, echoing eerily through the tunnel. Zack reached slowly for his sword, while Gem cocked her guns. Then one of the figures lurched nearer – and Gem’s heart almost stopped as she saw that face.

The thing wore Genesis’s strong jawline, his curlicue lips, his straight nose – but one side of his face seemed to be _melting,_ the eye socket badly formed and bursting into blistered red mounds. And when the second figure came into the light, he was wearing Genesis’s face too, though it was the lips that were stretched across half its jaw – they dragged their deformed limbs across the floor as their eyes locked with Gem’s and Zack’s.

‘What the fuck are they?’ Gem cried.

‘Gem, get behind me,’ Zack urged, and she did as he said, aiming her guns straight at them.

‘Why do they look like him?’ she stammered, halfway between panic and longing, but Zack didn’t have time to respond – the creatures pounced, and they engaged them with ringing metal and the blast of gunfire.

  
• • •

 

Sephiroth told his taxi to stop as soon as he heard that shriek. It had sounded horribly close. He left the cab and went towards a small patrol of frightened-looking ex-Soldiers who seemed to be venturing down an alleyway. Upon seeing him they immediately seemed to regain confidence, cocking their weapons and crowding around him as he asked what they were looking for. They gave him Angeal’s orders, and Sephiroth wiped the exhaustion from his eyes, before taking the lead and guiding them through the alleys to the coordinates that Angeal had given.

They could hear gunfire close by, and more of those inhuman shrieks. The ex-Soldiers’ breaths accelerated into rhythmic spurts of fog, and Sephiroth summoned his Masamune as they looked around themselves. By now their surroundings were little more than geometric shapes skirting the edges of their torchlight.

‘That came from the left, didn’t it?’ one of the Seconds whispered, eyes wide, his hushed voice cleaving through the silence.

‘Look!’ The other Second pointed a finger, and his partners followed his gaze to a shape up ahead, a jerking silhouette outlined by the thin chalk of starlight. The outline kept scattering as the figure limped towards them, so they couldn’t guess anything more than the fact that it was human, at least.  
There was the crystalline ringing of the Masamune being swept into a defensive guard. Three ex-Soldiers, stepping closer to one another as they prepared to apprehend whatever it was that was lurching towards them. When the figure came into range of their torchlight however – it was one of their own, trailing broken limbs and a whole lot of blood.

‘It’s him!’ the wounded Soldier shouted, eyes full of torchlight and white around the edges as he looked up at them in panic. ‘It’s Genesis – except he’s – he’s gone _insane – ’_

Sephiroth’s lips parted under the impact of those words. If Aeris had been right, if Genesis really was alive… then perhaps he had escaped – but those shrieks hardly sounded human. Perhaps he’d unleashed a slew of Hojo’s specimens on the city on his way out. Gaia, it felt good to hope. Sephiroth came forwards, helping the others to stabilize their comrade, trying to keep his hands from shaking as hope soared through him.

‘It’s very unlikely for Genesis to be alive,’ he said calmly enough, concentrating on peeling away the man’s clothes from his wounds so that the Cure spell wouldn’t mesh skin and fabric together. ‘It’s dark, and there are posters of his face all over the city. Your mind might’ve made an amalgam.’

‘I’m sure it was him, sir,’ the wounded Soldier gasped, but Sephiroth interrupted him by pressing his hands to a hemorrhaging wound. The man bit back a cry, and green mist twisted around General’s lithe fingers, lighting all of their enhanced eyes as the spell enveloped them. He was frowning as he wiped away the blood on his own leathers.

‘What happened to your own patrol team?’

‘They – he _decimated_ them – ’ the man said through heaving breaths. Then he pointed behind him shakily. ‘Back there, and he killed civilians, too – it’s a _massacre_.’

There were more screams, scattered this time, and all four Soldiers lifted their heads automatically – they sounded closer than before.

‘Find a place to hide, and finish curing him,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I’ll go and check.’

The wounded Soldier was shaking his head, but said nothing more, gritting his teeth as they tended to him. Once he had given his General the appropriate directions, Sephiroth stood, tightening his grip nervously on the Masamune.

‘Be careful,’ he added. ‘Call me if you hear anything suspicious. Don’t take any risks.’

They nodded at him, and he eased into a run, each heartbeat sending a flutter of delight through his body as he slid into the shadows. In the impossible occurrence that it _was_ Genesis – chest stitched up, bloody hands reaching – Sephiroth had to be the first on the scene. He had to see him.

•

He’d passed through several empty streets before he began to find them; broken bodies, torn into pieces and scattered across the road among slick pools of blood. They were civilians, judging by the clothes that he managed to guess at through squinting.

It was strange, how the puddles of earlier rainfall reflected the stars, while blood seemed too thick and too dark to reflect anything at all. There were noises up ahead, and Sephiroth stepped into the shadows again, eyes glowing freakishly as he tried to glimpse any sign of movement. Something was slapping wetly, repeatedly, against a hard surface. He directed his footsteps towards the sounds, starlight lingering on the fall of his hair so that he wasn’t entirely immersed in shadow. There was a body standing upright, though it was horribly deformed, and it seemed to be slamming its own face against the blood-spattered façade of a shop.

Despite all that he’d seen already, Sephiroth felt a shiver coursing through his limbs as he imagined that that _thing_ could possibly have been mistaken for Genesis. He readied his sword, stalking his enemy as he approached it. It couldn’t be him, unless Hojo had done something truly terrible – and just as he was lunging, silent as a cat, eyes gleaming, the creature looked up at him.

It was –

That _face_ –

Sephiroth cut off his own stride, legs sketching a few awkward steps as he stumbled to a halt, lips hanging open around the syllables that he couldn’t say.

But the creature saw the threat, snarled at him with those familiar lips retracting – and pounced.

The Masamune clattered to the ground, splashing in puddles both clear and crimson. Sephiroth only barely had the presence of mind to bring up his arms to defend himself; the creature grabbed his wrists, prizing them apart with unnatural strength, and both men keeled to the ground as Sephiroth lost his balance. Once they were on the floor he overpowered the enemy easily enough, ripping out of its grip with a growl of effort. A second later he’d rolled over it, pinning it down by the wrists and trying to get a good look at its face – but its arms were covered in blood and slippery, and it escaped him, slashing him across the neck before slithering out from under him.

Sephiroth stood as it scampered, bringing a hand up disbelievingly to feel the gashes opening his skin in three long lines – he turned then, grabbing the hilt of his Masamune and looking around himself. No, it couldn’t be Genesis – it was – it was a trick of the light. An amalgam. Yes, his brain was playing tricks on him –

There was a ghastly cackling ahead of him, and he felt it in his bones again, the visceral recognition. Even the voice was the same.

 _‘Who are you?_ ’ he yelled, his voice reverberating in the empty street, the echo falling like a veil of life on the dead bodies all around. ‘ _What do you want?’_

That same cackling again, scraping his ears insufferably and making him want to destroy something.  
When he saw the movement up ahead he didn’t even think, he raced forwards – it couldn’t be Genesis, it _wasn’t_ – this time he had the Masamune pointing ahead of him, so any involuntary attack would be fatal. But he’d made his decision, he wasn’t crazy, he was –

The creature shirked around the attack, grabbing at his flank with those disgusting hands, and Sephiroth defended himself automatically. His elbows flew up as he retracted the blade, slicing at the air with a sweet ring. If it was really Genesis, he would have anticipated that parry – he would’ve – but the hilt slammed into Sephiroth’s palms, and he felt the impact of metal against bones.

The creature fell, its deformed torso slashed open. And Sephiroth stood over it, hearing every drop of blood plinking to the ground as he tried not to drop the Masamune this time. He didn’t want to look – but he did anyway, wide eyes scouring the creature’s face. He looked at the salient cheekbones, the slight physiognomic smile, the slanted eyes, and all he could think of was the time when he’d taken that face in his hands and leaned so close that he could feel every one of Genesis’ breaths on his own mouth, the cold inhales followed by hot gushes as they panted against one other, fighting, fucking, crying.

He fell to his knees, setting his sword to the side and sliding both hands up his friend’s throat, cupping the jaw and turning his face either way in some last attempt to convince himself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t… it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible…

‘It can’t be you,’ he muttered between clenched teeth. ‘It _can’t.’_

He checked everything, sliding a trembling torchlight over that translucent skin. The little protuberant mole on the side of Genesis’ neck, that the man used to fiddle with when he was uncomfortable, which was often. He never realized he was doing it, though Sephiroth would always notice it amusedly when they were at some ShinRa do and Genesis was saving his arse from abysmal social failure, as always. The roots of his hair – he’d had it much longer when they’d first met, unruly red strands reaching his shoulder-blades, and Sephiroth used to believe he dyed it. But it had always been natural, however surprising the colour. Even the scar was there, the one just above the corner of his upper lip, the one Sephiroth remembered biting – Angeal had inflicted that during an incident that they were both fond of reciting, some duel with carved wooden sticks where they’d been a bit overzealous. Angeal had scars all over too, though Sephiroth always forgot which ones corresponded to Genesis’ lack of swordsmanship etiquette. The only thing that was missing was his earring, but he supposed they must’ve taken all jewellery from him when they’d locked him up. But _Gaia,_ the deformities in his chest, the way his leg muscles looked almost atrophied in parts. They had mutilated him, if it was really him.

After a while he gave up checking for clues. He was no longer sure what he was looking for, exactly – he’d always known that corpses lie about who had inhabited them, imposter or not, so he still wouldn’t believe this was Genesis even with a DNA print right in his face. Sephiroth had been acquainted with corpses since he was far too young, and the way the dead became glossy snapshots, familiar features solidifying in a perfect death mask – the bodies became lies, claiming to withhold someone that he could come into contact with, trapped in rigor mortis. Some childish part of him still believed that perhaps if he shook this body hard enough, if he hugged it hard enough, he’d be able to touch the person it had been – that’s what he told himself now as his hands clasped dead flesh, as his lips pressed against a cold mouth, but his tears were the only things that moved on the corpse’s barren plains of skin. And he held the Genesis lookalike against him, its head against his shoulder so that its still face might stop promising to kiss him back.

His forehead was against the lookalike’s red hair, leathers growing damp with blood, when he realized there were still shrieks echoing in the night.  At first he ignored them, because he couldn’t bring himself to separate his hands from this body while it was still warm. After a few minutes he straightened with difficulty, ran numb fingers along the lookalike’s face to brush away the strands that were stuck to his lips. His brow contracted as he failed to look away, breathing slowly as he tried to contain whatever it was that was surging up inside him, blocking his throat, making him light-headed. It took him a few more minutes to find the strength to get up and leave the body behind him.

There were more figures ahead, hobbling into the flickering streetlights. Sephiroth’s eyes fell on more copper hair, and faces that looked like they were melting off. It was as though each of the bodies had had an identity before being grafted with Genesis’s, and certain details recalled someone else, some suppressed trait or bone structure that didn’t quite match up with Sephiroth’s memory of him. One figure even had a pair of raven black wings, one of them arched up in an elegant curve, the other dragging behind in a mess of raw flesh and downy feathers.

And then Sephiroth remembered something. Something he’d read in Hollander’s papers. A property of the Jenova cells that inhabited each and every one of them. He hadn’t really processed it yet – the meaning of the words, _Jenova hosts._ What it would mean to apply those words to his own body. He had pushed them to the back of his mind while he focused on taking ShinRa down, but now he couldn’t do otherwise than let the words invade him.

_Jenova hosts can be replicated. A cluster of Jenova-infected stem-cells, when injected into another animal of the same species, produces an almost exact replica of the host. We have studied this form of ‘cloning’ on mice, and found that everything from the external façade to the internal organs begin to change…_

Copies. Clones. That’s what they were. That’s what Hojo had been doing with whatever he had of Genesis, whether the body was alive or dead. He’d been making these monstrous people, and they’d escaped before their transformation could be complete.

Sephiroth’s mind was whirring as he watched the Genesis clones bear down on him. Something was lurching inside of him, some kind of answer to whatever grotesque call these hideous copies were making. Like his body recognised them, their transformations, and was pulling Sephiroth in the same direction. He could feel the boils on their faces and chests, the ribs arching too far out, the wings weighing them down, and it made him want to puke.

He slashed across their soft bellies, their protruding organs, and once they were in pieces on the floor he found himself holding onto the nearest lamppost, breathing hard as pain bucked through him, some kind of scream echoing in his mind. Perhaps it was Cetra, perhaps Aeris was trying to speak to him again – but no, it was more immediate than that, it sounded like his blood had turned to metal, screeching across his veins and gathering at his right shoulder.

He panted, eyes darting sightlessly across the blood puddles. And then he heard leather tearing as something broke out of his back, and he was panting through it, concentrating on not blacking out as he helplessly felt his body breaking apart.

His back was spilling something heavy, the length of it growing longer and longer across the floor, and he could feel that stretch of floor like he was lying across it, like he was growing some monstrous a fifth limb. Which was insane. He was going insane. He had to be. He looked to the right, saw a shivering black mass. When he lifted his arm, the mass lifted too, foreign muscles pulling and making him cry out in pain and surprise.

Feathers. They were feathers.

Whatever they were doing to Genesis, whatever they had done, it was nothing they hadn’t already done to him. The wing attested to that. Sephiroth wasn’t even thinking any more as he tried to step away from the lamppost, panting hard. The wing flared out as he moved his arms, and he staggered back as the weight of it almost pulled him off his feet.

He wanted to tear his way out of his body. He wanted to tear his way out of the city itself, out of the inky fabric of this nightmare.

He held Masamune out behind him, the icy metal scraping across the paving stones as he turned and advanced towards the ShinRa HQ.

 

• • •

 

There was a line of body bags in the middle of the plaza, the Turk helicopter lifting off again to go and fetch more clone bodies in from the perimetre. Tseng was on his phone with the president as he arranged the fresh corpses into the gaping lips of empty body bags.

‘How many have you got so far?’ Shinra barked.

‘So far, twenty-seven out of the thirty-two that escaped. We have been raking the city all night, sir, there shouldn’t be more than two or three still left out there.’

‘Rude was telling me that there have been casualties already, and – wait a second.’

Tseng held the line. It was beginning to smell more and more like burning. He glanced up at the empty streets ahead. Dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon. There was the scent of smoke all around, the air blackened by what he presumed to be the remainders of rioters’ campfires. His eyes narrowed as he saw pillars of black smoke ahead, drifting up from all over the Sector.

‘Tseng,’ the president said. ‘You need to hurry this up. The clones are casting magic, I don’t know how they’re doing it. There’s a path of Firagas starting in the clone perimetre, leading straight for the HQ. Tell your men that not a single one must be spared – ’

His voice was drowned out by a huge burst of fire, searing through the entire left side of the street ahead. Windows shattered one after the other, roof tiles exploded outwards, walls collapsed. Flames danced over the buildings, glaringly bright and devouring the soft light of dawn. Tseng stepped back, his mouth dry in the face of the towering flames. They quickly gained on the buildings surrounding the plaza, until the ShinRa HQ was surrounded by fire.

Tseng staggered away from the body bags, cocking his gun as he saw a solitary figure tracing a path through the burning flames, walking straight towards the plaza. He could barely hear the helicopter rotors over the din of the fire and the crumbling buildings. He wanted to tell them to leave him, to go and fetch the clones – but he was desperately glad not to be alone to face of whatever this _thing_ was.

The helicopter touched down near him, and Rude jumped out immediately, gaining his side with his guns in hand. Reno was quick to follow, and by the time they had flanked him, the figure had come close enough for them to recognize that billowing silver hair, the fire glinting on the silver pauldrons.  Except there was also a gigantic black wing protruding from his right shoulder, and Tseng had no idea what to make of that.

Particles of ash billowed in the air, like fabric rippling in water, caressing Sephiroth’s figure as he made his way towards them. His calves tore through thick panels, cleaved through the curtains of smoke. Tseng felt as though he were watching Death approaching. There was something so terrible about Sephiroth’s silence, his slow ponderous gait. He’d taken off his gloves, and every inch of bare skin was covered in crimson grime – his pale eyes were strangely colourless after the violent splatters that marred his face.

‘Mr President, sir?’ Tseng stammered into his phone. ‘It’s not the clones.’

• • •


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't BELIEVE how long these last two chapters have gotten. If you listen carefully you can probably hear me still bashing my head against the walls as I try to figure out if there's anything I haven't wrapped up with this. I hope you guys enjoy it, again if you bring up any issues I will use the criticism in the final edit! <3 Thank you so much for reading and for all the precious feedback! xx

• • •

Hegemony was only barely holding onto her sanity as she followed Zack through the dark streets. She had taken to repeating _what the fuck?_ to herself, as some kind of personal mantra to force a wedge between her own rational world and this crazy new one.

They had taken out five Genesis hybrids before they came across a pair of women in blue suits, dragging more of the monstrous things together in a haphazard pile. Zack started towards them, so she caught his arm.

‘Hey, I know this is all new to you, but they’re the enemy, remember?’ she hissed at him.

‘We can question them,’ Zack snapped back. ‘Maybe they can tell us what the hell’s going on.’

Gem gave a sigh of exasperation, before nodding. ‘Fine. Fine. But don’t come crying to me when they snap your neck.’

‘They saw us as soon as we turned that corner,’ Zack told her. ‘If they had wanted to kill us they would’ve done something by now.’ Gem waved away the argument impatiently, and they both led their little group over to the two women. One of them was on her phone. The other simply turned to face Zack, holding her shuriken behind her as a sign of non-aggression. The group formed a circle.

‘The hell’s going on, Cissnei?’ Zack asked the one with the shuriken. ‘Why are there people who look like Genesis wandering around?’

‘Genesis clones,’ Cissnei told them. ‘They’re almost all accounted for. But we have a much bigger problem than that, now.’ She pointed up at the thick acrid smoke that was covering the pearl-grey sky. 

‘Are they the ones casting Firaga?’ Zack asked.

‘It’s Sephiroth,’ Cissnei said. ‘He’s gone mad. He’s marching on the HQ. We don’t have enough men to guard it. Most of the board members are in there, and the president, too.’

Zack and Gem stared at each other, wide-eyed.

‘Odin’s fucking balls,’ Gem swore as she took out her phone and called Angeal. ‘Yeah, uh. You’re not gonna like this, but we’re gonna need reinforcements.’

 

• • •

 

The president is in his high-backed chair. He has supervised the world from this chair for the past thirty years. He is smoking a cigar. Fingers and thumb are stained yellow and brown as he holds it to his mouth. His late wife used to complain about that. His late wife used to complain about a lot of things. The way he ran his affairs. The way his whole life was tied to his company.

He spent the last few years thinking his son might be the death of him. Scheming with Avalanche before being locked away in Junon. The president never claimed to be a good father. It’s his late wife’s fault for leaving him with the burden of choosing between business, fatherhood and grief. He couldn’t choose all three. He thought he was choosing the most durable option, the option which would give him back the most, when he chose his company. He remembers telling his son, _built it up from nothing, father would be proud. We live to see our fathers’ dreams to their ends._ Young Rufus had looked at him blankly and said what he always said. _Yes, sir._

There are screens on the office wall, showing the feeds of different security cameras. The president isn’t looking at them. They are all flashing angrily with the red lights of the HQ alarm. Figures are being dragged across the floor, trailing blood across immaculate glass walls. If the feeds were unmuted, he would hear the blaring siren, the screams of the men that are being murdered in his own headquarters. Instead, he’s put on some jazz, soft golden notes filling the silence.

The president has lived long enough to know when to welcome to inevitable.

It’s too soon, when he hears the sounds of combat outside the doors of his wide, lavish office. Sephiroth is still wreaking carnage in the lower levels. The doors are wrenched open, the corpses of his guards spilling inside. A man in white specimen clothes steps over their bodies, dragging a heavy red blade.

The president had not expected it to be him. The man they called Genesis, here to bring about ShinRa’s end. Irony at its finest. The president watched this boy grow up. They have both had such vastly different lives that the president cannot empathise with that murderous expression, the way Genesis’s body is pitched forwards, straining for the kill, like a wolf snapping through the last few ropes of his net. But the president can understand that a life spent serving the plans of others is not a life to envy. Only now does he begin to realise how it feels to be told _, your life no longer belongs to you._

Genesis is carving all his rage and regrets across the recently waxed hardwood floor. For a moment, the president ponders his own regrets. Does he regret not spending more time with Rufus? Not trying harder to educate him, to be the father that Rufus would’ve deserved? No, he doesn’t really regret that. He doesn’t know his son any more. By now, Rufus might as well have died along with his mother, for all the impact the boy has on the president’s life. Then perhaps, his company? What he could have done differently?

Genesis stops in front of the desk, blood-red sword aimed over the neatly stacked paperwork, pointing straight between the president’s eyes. And the president realises that his biggest regret is standing right in front of him. He should never have allowed this man to live. He should never have allowed any of them to live. He sees himself now, thirty years younger, already lightyears ahead of his competitors in the brand new Mako business. Back then the only wars he’d been engaged in were commercial ones. The law of offer and demand. He’d had an ear on the heart of his consumer base, working instinctually, shouting into phones as he watched his competitors rise and fall in the exhilaration of an ever-expanding demand.

And then he’d had contacts with the army. With members of the Midgar Democratic Party. He’d seen opportunities that no one else would’ve dared to take. How could he have refused the offer to stand on top of the world? He’d scattered bets across the golden wheel of fortune without a thought for where they might land, confident that his winning streak would only rush onwards. And now Genesis’s bloody hand is slamming down on the wheel, halting its relentless spin.

That was the bet that the president should never have made. Human lives, bought and altered.

‘Where is she?’ Genesis snarls, every bit the animal that the president should’ve put down.

He looks along the razor-sharp edge of the blade and into Genesis’s eyes.

‘Who?’

‘Aeris. I searched the entire labs. You put her away somewhere else. _Tell me where_.’

The president should’ve expected them to band together. The wretched always do. He looks into the eyes of his murderer and smiles the smile of a man about to die. Carefully, he folds away his secrets at the back of his throat, stuffs his regrets down into his stomach, bulging like a belly full of cotton.

‘Why would I tell you that?’

 

• • •

 

Sephiroth traces a path to the upper floors in human blood. The soles of his boots leave blood-red grid patterns with each step as he heads for the president’s office.

How often he fantasized about this as a child. To run Masamune through the heart of this company. The sane and logical course of action lays in tatters in his mind as he relishes in the chaos, a beast with blood dripping from his mouth. He couldn’t stop even if he tried. 

The doors are already open. He steps inside, his wing carelessly skidding along the doorframe, leaving inky feathers across the bodies that lay at his feet.

The president is here. He is sitting in his high-backed chair. Except his upper body is splayed out on the rich mahogany desk, and a blood-red sword is planted through his ribcage. His cigar has rolled away from his open mouth, and it’s still smoking as it lies there, scattering black ashes.

There is a man standing in front of the desk, wearing the white cotton of specimens, though the white colour is difficult to see through all the blood spatters. His hair is auburn, and he has that little protuberant mole on the back of his neck that Sephiroth recognises. He has his back to Sephiroth, breathing quietly as he observes his handiwork. When he hears Sephiroth come in, he turns his head.

Sephiroth has seen those blue eyes on three people already tonight. He can’t help doubting the way those familiar facial features light up in recognition as the man looks at him. He stops in his tracks, Masamune trailing at his side as the red-haired man’s gaze travels up the arch of his wing.

‘Tell me something only Genesis would know,’ Sephiroth orders.

The man looks at him for a few long seconds. Then he says, ‘You like kissing your lovers before you stab them in the back.’

There is a pause as the words are judged. Weighed. It should’ve been obvious from the first word that dropped from those lips – the clones couldn’t even form words, let alone speak like the Genesis he knew. But Sephiroth is still stuck in a marsh of indecision, so afraid of his hopes being dashed for the umpteenth time. He couldn’t take it if this man turns out to be an imposter like all the rest.

Then the man turns towards him, looks at him with that familiar mixture of longing and anger – and it’s all the proof he needs. It’s him. He’s alive. He’s _alive._

Sephiroth can’t breathe as he strides over to his best friend. He’s not even thinking about the wing as its great shadow slides over Genesis’s body. Genesis is looking at him, Genesis can see him, Genesis is standing in front of him, _alive and breathing._ Genesis tilts his face up, and he looks like he’s trying to hold onto his anger but can’t help letting it slip as Sephiroth takes him in his arms.

The great black wing folds around them, Sephiroth still not quite able to dissociate its movements from what his arms are doing, but he’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about Genesis’s hands, climbing up his back, sinking into the downy black feathers, into his coils of silver hair, and even though they’re both covered in muck and stinking of blood, he inhales his friend’s body heat, his presence, the reassuring solidity of him.

There are words gathering in his throat, but Genesis gives a choked whimper against Sephiroth’s throat, and he needs to look him again. He takes Genesis’s face in his hands, stares at those fine lips, the high cheekbones, the quick-witted almond-shaped eyes.

 _I’m sorry,_ Sephiroth wants to say. _I’ve missed you so much. I killed three different versions of you and I feel like I’m dreaming. I can’t tell if this is real. You or me or any of this._

Instead, what comes out is, ‘You’re alive.’

Genesis lets out a laugh.

‘Astounding observation skills, as always,’ he says.

Sephiroth smiles back, and it’s still so strange, to be able to smile, to be able to talk and touch and look at him. And then Genesis has tilted his chin up, so he leans in – he has a thought for what Aeris said to him, how he uses physical intimacy to say no _,_ but here it’s the opposite, here the kiss means _yes, thank you Gaia, thank you for fighting and breathing and being here with me._

•

It’s still so new. For Sephiroth to want this. Genesis frowns into the kiss, into the urgency of Sephiroth’s relief.  It inevitably reminds him of that night at the speakeasy, his thighs against the stage, Sephiroth’s hands unbuckling him, the way he had fallen apart. Genesis can’t help being wary of this giddiness, can’t help the tug of anger preventing him from enjoying it. After a moment Genesis reaches for Sephiroth’s wrists, gently pulls them down as he draws back.

‘What are you doing up here?’ he asks.

‘I was going to storm the labs,’ Sephiroth tells him. ‘The president is one of the only people who has a keycard to Floor 68, so I had to come up here first.’

‘You knew we were there?’ Genesis asks him, his expression becoming guarded. ‘You knew _I_ was there?’

 ‘It’s complicated,’ Sephiroth manages to say. ‘I was never quite sure of it until today. Did Aeris manage to escape too?’

This makes Genesis step back, unravel from the embrace. ‘You know who she is, then?’

‘She told me, yes.’

Genesis averts his eyes, reining in the questions he wants to ask. There are more pressing matters at hand. He walks around the desk as he speaks;

‘They caught her and dragged her away somewhere. I searched the whole of Floor 68 for her - ’ He steps up onto the president’s desk, reaching to rip the sword out of his leaking body. ‘ – but they must’ve taken her somewhere even more secret.’

Sephiroth thinks of the long corridors Aeris had shown him. He clenches his jaw as he imagines her in the same cold, aseptic environments he’d grown up in.

‘I think I might know where they took her,’ he says, stepping around the desk to join Genesis at the president’s side.

Genesis is kneeling there on the desk as he searches the president’s blazer pockets. The sight of the president’s sprawling body makes Sephiroth’s insides lurch; for a split second he realises just how much this will upset the already fractured world outside of this room. But his eyes are following Genesis’s movements, his limbs so synchronized and methodical, a miracle of nature. And it’s soothing to look at how gracefully the dead might move, to think of how much time they have left. It’s almost overwhelming.

Genesis tosses him a master keycard, and Sephiroth catches it.

‘Let’s go, then,’ he says.

•

The knowledge that Aeris is still somewhere in the bowels of the ShinRa HQ makes it easy for Sephiroth to pick his way through the corpse-strewn corridors without even offering the bodies a second glance. Genesis feels his mouth go dry as Sephiroth leads him through the carnage. There aren’t only guards stretched across the floor; receptionists and unarmed ShinRa staff are huddled in groups, wearing Masamune’s jagged red slashes across their bodies. Their inert fingers unfold and curl up again as Sephiroth steps over them.

With the ink-black wing flared out behind him, he looks beautifully murderous, and Genesis can’t help but feel a thrum of awed fear as he follows his friend. He’s only ever wanted for them to see the world in the same light, for Sephiroth to believe him, to realise and accept the truth. But Sephiroth has gone far beyond that. He’s gone beyond avenging them. The blood on the walls tells of just how far he’s allowing himself to go in his righteous rage.

It might be indescribably thrilling to be walking alongside him, to let himself get caught up in Sephiroth’s bloodlust. But somewhere under the thrill, Genesis is terrified of the extents Sephiroth is capable of going to. He should be taking Sephiroth’s hand, telling him to slow down, calm down, catch his breath. But then they break into a part of the HQ that is manned by Scarlet’s robotics, and Genesis watches Sephiroth open his hand, the white haze of Masamune slowly solidifying into his palm as his pace picks up. Heart in his throat, Genesis heaves the Rapier up into a defensive guard, and lets rip a feral yell as they charge.     

•

Hardware and ruined electronics are strewn across the ruined lino of the HQ’s corridors as they clear the way. Sephiroth brings them through several locked doors thanks to the master keycard, and they wander through winding corridors that are lit only by emergency floor lights. Genesis wonders if the air is getting scarce, or if it’s just the idea of breaking into one of the HQ’s most confidential areas that’s playing on his nerves.

 They hack and Bolt their way through fortified doors. The cameras have long since warned everyone inside of their arrival, so they advance unhindered through the corridors until they arrive at some sort of research lab. Genesis glimpses offices where researchers merely glance up from their work at them before putting their heads back down again. There are cells that are as elaborately done up as children’s bedrooms, and rooms full of cages holding small frightened animals.

‘What is this place?’ he murmurs to Sephiroth.

‘It’s where I grew up,’ Sephiroth tells him. ‘What I called ‘home’ before Gast arranged for a living area outside the HQ.’

It’s impossible to fully process the meaning of those words on the spot, but Genesis looks up at his friend’s face nonetheless, horrified by the idea. He’d known that Sephiroth hadn’t had the warmest of upbringings, but this place… how could anyone keep a child down here?

 Double doors snap open around them. Sephiroth slows to a stop in this new room they’ve uncovered. There are Mako tanks, terminals sprouting up from the floor. A familiar figure is stooped by one of the glowing green tanks, long black ponytail tracing an oily line down his lab coat.

Genesis feels rage bubbling up inside him. He had combed the entirety of Floor 68 trying to hunt Hojo down, wasting precious time. Hojo must’ve retreated to this place right after snatching Aeris. He steps forwards – but Sephiroth grasps his arm, pulls him back. Hojo turns around, taking in the two intruders and the dark loom of Sephiroth’s wing.

‘Marvelous,’ he mutters. ‘So the genetic potential that she unlocked remains within your control. How did you manage to push the wing out a second time? Through proprioceptive input alone?’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be evacuating the HQ?’ Genesis snarls.

‘Too much research to do, too little time,’ Hojo says, shaking his head. ‘As soon as you let the clones free, I knew it would only be a matter of time before the whole company folded in on itself and our research budget dried up. But we managed to get the girl back, so it would’ve been a waste to spend that time running rather than continuing the work.’

This time it’s Sephiroth’s turn to step forwards, his expression marred by disgust.

‘Where are you keeping her?’

Hojo looks at Sephiroth, Mako reflections slithering over his glasses. ‘All these lives you’ve taken, and it was just for her sake?’ he says, still in that curious tone. Then he glances at Genesis. ‘I suppose you never did pick your partners intelligently.’

Genesis moves before Sephiroth can stop him, fist sailing across Hojo’s temple. Sephiroth doesn’t understand the protective instinct that surges through him as Genesis hauls the bony old scientist up by the scruff of his collar, banging him against a Mako tank. Sephiroth forces himself to stand still, ignoring the irrational urge to pull Genesis off of the old man.

‘I’ve had enough of your bullshit,’ Genesis spits at him. ‘Give her to us or I’ll make sure you can never work again.’

‘Why do you want her?’ Hojo says, his voice wavering, though he still seems far more curious than afraid. ‘If you want her for breeding purposes, then we could potentially reach a comp – ’

A sickening _crack_ resounds in the air as Genesis breaks Hojo’s wrists _._ Sephiroth lifts his chin, gazing at Hojo’s pain-warped face with cold satisfaction. But there’s still that incomprehensible prickle of pity spoiling the moment as he watches Hojo sag down the Mako tank.

‘ _Where is she?’_ Genesis roars.

‘I can’t let you see her now,’ Hojo says in a thin voice, his mouth hanging open as he pants through the pain. ‘We’ve just begun operating.’ 

A spasm of fury flits across Sephiroth’s face. ‘Operating?’

‘Ovum harvesting,’ Hojo says. ‘Genesis destroyed a good portion of my lab equipment on Floor 68, including the refrigerated area, so we have to do it again. It’s a delicate procedure that doesn’t harm her, and it ensures the continuity of our research even once she’s gone – ’

Genesis looks like he’s about to kill him, but Sephiroth comes forwards silently. So the redhead obligingly moves out of the way, allowing Sephiroth to cast his winged shadow over Hojo’s trembling form.

‘I can’t stop you, if you want to take her,’ Hojo tells him, holding his broken hands against his chest. ‘But don’t be petty, Sephiroth. That girl is our last hope to understand and rejuvenate the Cetran race. I assume you understand how important this is. Just wait for the procedure to be over, and that way we can both leave here with what we w –’

His breath is cut off as Sephiroth clamps a hand around his throat and lifts him up off his feet, his spine dragging up the rounded glass of the Mako tank.

‘Tell me where she is,’ he growls.

•

When Genesis and Sephiroth burst into the operating room, there are only two guards to put down, and two assistants – one standing by the medical chair where Aeris is lying unconscious, and the other between Aeris’s parted legs. A white lamp is shining straight between the stirrups where Aeris’s feet are affixed. The assistant sitting between her legs looks up, equipment still in hand. The assortment of fine tubes and needles fall out of his shaking fingers as he gets up off his stool.

He doesn’t get very far.

Once the assistants admit that they have only gone through the initial steps of preparation, the hormonal injection, the general anaesthesia – Sephiroth and Genesis make quick work of them. Cracked necks, bodies crumpling to the floor. Genesis unstraps Aeris’s ankles whilst Sephiroth rids her of the needles in her veins, placing a hand on her chest to cast Esuna. It’s never enjoyable, to have anaesthetics magically lifted from one’s system. Aeris’s eyelids start fluttering, dragging upwards as she claws her way to consciousness. Then both men are by her side, Sephiroth taking the mask off her face as she starts breathing by herself.

She’s groggy and disoriented as she looks up at them. Both Firsts know exactly what she’s feeling – the nausea, the whirring sensation in her chest. At first she looks at them like she doesn’t really believe they’re there. Genesis smooths her white sheath over her thighs, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms – Sephiroth slides a hand behind her shoulders to help her up. Then the fog seems to lift a little more, and her eyes dart between the both of them like she doesn’t quite dare to believe what she’s seeing.

‘It’s over,’ Genesis says. ‘You’re safe.’

‘We arrived before they could do anything,’ Sephiroth adds.

‘You’re really here,’ Aeris says in a tear-choked voice, and then she’s sitting up, lifting her hands weakly, and they wrap their arms around her, cocooning her in their warmth. They both clutch at her slender shoulders, frowning into her hair as they all breathe the same air for a moment, hair sticking to parted lips, lashes fluttering against tear-soaked cheeks.

They help her to her feet, Genesis letting her lean against him whilst Sephiroth leads the way out. Aeris stoops, picking a gun from one of the dead guard’s belts, and Genesis decides against reminding her that she’s safe in their company. She clearly won’t take any risks, after their last escape attempt.

Sephiroth hardly feels like he’s inhabiting his own body as he leads them on. His legs are feather-light, his heart beating like a drum in a wide, silent void. There’s still a choice to make, one last culprit whose fate Sephiroth hasn’t decided. When they make their way back to the room with the Mako tanks, Sephiroth stops at the doorway, looking down at Hojo’s prostrate form. He’s sitting at the foot of a tank, one leg lying at an odd angle, his head tilted back against the glass as he breathes softly. The old man looks up at his three specimens, and Aeris makes some kind of strangled noise as she sees him there, powerless.

‘This was… an improbable outcome,’ Hojo wheezes through his injuries. When he smiles, a line of blood trickles down from the corner of his mouth. ‘But then again, none of you followed the paths that we had initially projected for you.’

Aeris manages to untangle herself from Genesis’s grasp, and Sephiroth watches her as she takes one step towards Hojo. His throat is growing tight. He ignores it.

‘It’s not up to you to decide our fates,’ she says.

‘Hmm. Indeed,’ Hojo says. ‘Your father used to tell me the same thing. It’s always pained me to give responsibility and freedom back to those who would waste it. But we’re here, now, so I suppose I have no other choice.’

Sephiroth can see her bristling, keeping her rage contained with a self-control that he can only dream of. He can almost feel Genesis’s anger radiating off him, though they both stand back, allowing Aeris to handle the situation. With a calculated calm, she reaches up with her free hand to tug the medical cap off her hair. Hojo looks up at her inquiringly as she rips out the bands they’d used to secure her hair in a coiled bun. The long chestnut lengths uncurl down her back, bangs scattering messily across her face in some mute defiance.

‘Just so you know, I’m going to really enjoy wasting all of my freedom,’ Aeris snarls at him.

‘You still don’t understand, do you?’ he says, shaking his head sadly. ‘All I’ve ever done has been to your benefit, and to the benefit of the human race. Do you have any idea how many break-throughs have directly resulted from my research? What we learned from you and your mother provided an essential scientific backdrop to years and years of research surrounding the histories of Cetra and settler interact…’

He trails off. He’s looking into a gun barrel. She’s lifted her gun, pointing it straight at his face.

‘Who did it really benefit when you shot my father?’ she bites out.

Sephiroth forgets to breathe as he imagines her pulling the trigger. However frail and hunched he is, Hojo has always been a monolithic presence in Sephiroth’s life, an inescapable guardian blocking the path to freedom. It’s almost overwhelming to imagine that that guardian might be struck down. Like trying to imagine rain falling upwards, or the Planet’s rotation grinding to halt.

It’s an exercise in restraint for him not to intervene. He makes himself look at Hojo’s face, tries to push away the pity, the memories of Hojo bringing him small comforts after days spent under anaesthetics or tearing through new virtual realities. The feeling of accomplishment that had always accompanied Hojo’s positive reinforcement. It was a strange sort of affection, the kind of emotional dependency that only bloomed when a child had no one else to look up to as a paternal figure. There had been no other choice after Gast had gone.

Gast. Sephiroth makes himself look at Aeris, the firm set of her jaw, the long hair reminding him so much of Ifalna. The sight of her reminds him of the warmth and affection that had always enveloped him when he was in Gast’s presence. And Hojo deprived him of that. He deprived both of them of the man who could’ve raised them, given them a far better life.

‘Gast behaved on an unprofessional impulse,’ Hojo tells her. ‘It benefited everyone involved for him to be terminated. If he had had his way, you would’ve been forgotten all the way up North, mingling the purity of your blood with humans until your lineage turned as dull and magically impoverished as the rest of us.’

Aeris grabs the gun in both hands. It must be getting heavy to hold out like that in her weakened state. Sephiroth wants to step up to her, to help her. But she must’ve been aching to have this sort of power over her captor since she was a child. He can’t waste that.

‘Tell me where you put my mother’s materia,’ she breathes. She’s at the end of her patience, Sephiroth can see that. His heart is pounding in his temple as the end of the encounter approaches, along with the inevitable choice they will all have to make together.

Hojo’s mouth twists into a smile. ‘You’re going to kill me right after I tell you, aren’t you?’ he says softly.

This seems to destabilize her. Her mouth unsticks, brow crumpling in a frown. Then she glances over her shoulder at Sephiroth, as though looking for permission or support.

Sephiroth breathes out slowly. Gazes into her reddened eyes.

Then he nods.

She looks back at Hojo, determination etched in the tension of her muscles, in the way she closes her mouth and tucks in her chin.

Something changes in Hojo’s expression, then. He looks up at her face as though accepting what she’s about to do. He tilts his head to the side, his gaze still full of that sempiternal curiosity, as though he would’ve found any other course of action similarly fascinating. Sephiroth realises that he must consider even his death to be another experience, a result of cause and effect, and he’s calculating how each individual event might’ve led to this.

‘It’s in my office,’ Hojo tells her. ‘The safe combination is 18111978. Behind the bookshelves.’

Sephiroth feels a pang in his chest. The numbers correspond to his birthday. There is a silence, filled with the steady thrum of Mako in the pipes all around, and Aeris’s uneven breathing.

 ‘You’re every bit as stubborn as your mother was,’ Hojo murmurs. Then his gaze slides over to Sephiroth. ‘Both of you are.’

It’s some kind of trick. Sephiroth tries to ignore the coil of pain that that wriggles through him at the indication that Hojo had known his mother. He knows it can’t have been Jenova, that it was just a shortcut that Hojo had used to keep his mother’s real identity from him, all those years ago. But he can’t afford to fall into his trap now.

‘Do it, Aeris,’ he chokes out.

Aeris pulls the trigger, and gunfire blasts through their ears. The bullet catches Hojo in the head, cracking the thick glass of the tank behind him. He slides down, a red trail curving across the glass until he hits the floor.

The gun falls from Aeris’s shaking hands. She brings them up to her mouth as she looks down at Hojo’s corpse. Sephiroth steps up to her, slides a hand over her shoulder, and Genesis does the same, both Firsts offering their mute support. She turns around, sinks into their embrace a second time, burying her face in Sephiroth’s neck and holding Genesis around the shoulders as they take a moment to catch their breaths and quell their beating hearts.  Sephiroth looks over her head at Hojo’s body, unable to rip his gaze away. Almost like he’s waiting for him to get back up.

 •

They manage to find the safe. Genesis hands Aeris the white materia, but there are more files in that safe, papers and photographs yellowed by age. While Genesis helps Aeris to secure the materia in a fresh ponytail, Sephiroth takes out the files. There’s a photo of a woman with thick dark hair, smiling irritably at the camera, as though the photographer caught her by surprise. She’s wearing a lab coat, and some kind of heavy yellow ribbon in her hair. The other photos of her remind Sephiroth of the atmosphere of the labs in his earlier years. In one of them, she’s got her arm around Gast’s shoulders, laughing with him about something. In another, she’s standing next to both Ifalna and Gast, hands gesticulating in the air between them as they talk. In another still, the whole team are assembled in a messy research room, and she’s next to Hojo, looking over her shoulder at something. Hojo’s hand is on the small of her back in an intimate, possessive gesture.   

The lines of her face are achingly familiar. Sephiroth realises with a jolt that he looks at that face daily. In the mirror. The long inky lashes, the shape of the eyes, the high-set cheekbones. Even the way her hair curls over her forehead.

There is a glint of gold at the back of the safe. Sephiroth reaches in, unresponsive to Genesis’s questions as he picks up a necklace. It’s a fine gold chain, with what looks like two wedding rings hanging from it. Bringing up to his face, he can read the words etched on the insides of the bands: one has _Simon Hojo_ in it, the other has _Lucrecia Crescent._  

‘What did you find?’ Genesis asks.

Sephiroth rolls the photos up, pockets the necklace.

‘Nothing of immediate importance,’ he says, heart heavy. ‘Let’s get going.’

He turns, and Aeris watches as the longer feathers of his great wing caress the desk, scattering papers and pen pots onto the floor. He glances down at this, moving his right arm to the side with deliberate slowness. The wing folds, feathers shivering and slotting together awkwardly.

‘Sephiroth – when did that happen?’ Aeris asks in a small voice. ‘The wing?’

Sephiroth looks over at her, then back at the dark, glossy wing.

‘A couple of hours ago now, I think,’ he says.

Genesis steps behind him, asking whether he can touch him. Sephiroth accepts, so Genesis places a hand between Sephiroth’s shoulder blades, near the downy scapulars of the wing.

‘Unlocked genetic potential,’ Genesis mutters. ‘This happened to me too.’

‘You mean – a wing?’

‘Yeah.’

Sephiroth turns toward the desk as Genesis’s delicate fingers explore the higher feathers, the ones that cover the muscular flesh of the wing. The softness of his touch, the foreign dragging across brand new, hypersensitive skin – Sephiroth closes his eyes, shivering as the feathers pull exquisitely at the fine membrane beneath.

‘But how is that possible? For both of you to have wings?’ Aeris asks, watching as Genesis’s hand glides down the bony crest of Sephiroth’s wing, gently encouraging it to fold more neatly. Sephiroth braces his hands against the desk as the caress sends goosebumps all over his body. He can feel his new muscles shivering and twitching as they follow the pull of Genesis’s hand.

‘After you use your healing spell, Aeris,’ Genesis tells her. ‘It’s like it triggers mutations in our bodies. That’s why Hojo was making you cast it on me. It must have something to do with the Jenova cells.’

Aeris looks at the wing, wide-eyed.  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Aeris says. ‘I had no idea.’

‘It’s alright,’ Genesis tells her softly. ‘Like you said, you didn’t know. And they’re not that big of a hindrance.’ He turns his attention back to Sephiroth. ‘It can retract into your body. I don’t exactly know the biology of it, but – if it’s anything like mine, you just need to imagine it folding up into your back, and it’ll retract.’

‘Proprioceptive input,’ Sephiroth says with a nod, echoing Hojo’s words. He closes his eyes and breathes out, concentrating as he follows Genesis’s advice. Aeris and Genesis both watch, fascinated, as the wing slowly begins to grow smaller, bones clicking and feathers rustling as it seems to push its way into Sephiroth’s back. Sephiroth hunches his spine, frowning as he shrugs through the discomfort of it. Then the huge, sprawling length of the wing is all but gone, retracted, disappeared. Aeris wants to wave a hand in the air that it had occupied, just to make sure. The effect is completely bizarre.

 ‘You say they’re not much of a hindrance,’ Sephiroth says as he straightens, wobbling slightly at the sudden loss of weight. ‘But what’s the use of a single wing? We can’t fly with them. All they’re good for is knocking into things and throwing us off-balance.’

Genesis manages a tired smile. ‘We have them on opposite sides,’ he says. ‘Perhaps if we try to use them together, we might get somewhere.’

Sephiroth shakes his head and turns to the door. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

 

• • •

 

Outside of the HQ, there is a ring of vans and cars, Seconds and Thirds having long since cast Ice and Water spells to put out the fires. There are families standing outside of their smoking, burnt-down homes, wrapped in blankets. Newly converted Peacekeepers are helping them into taxis that will take them to hospital.

Zack and Gem are on either side of the plaza, reassuring civilians and trying to inform them of the situation as much as Angeal has allowed them to. For now they blame the clones, pitching it all on ShinRa until the Firsts and the council decide how to deal with Sephiroth’s breach of conduct.

The two Turk women they encountered are helping with the injured – there are more and more Turks and dregs of ShinRa’s forces coming out into the plaza, cut off from their leaders, unsure as to how to proceed. They stand alongside members of Avalanche, temporary allies as they deal with the aftermath of Sephiroth’s fury.

Angeal has just finished Curing Tseng, though his state is still critical. He’s on a stretcher – Reno and Rude have already been sent off, so the medics are busy loading him up into their ambulance when three figures appear in the HQ entrance.

Angeal turns around to face them fully, his face set, placing a hand on the hilt of the Buster sword at his back. He had no idea what to expect, so when he sees Sephiroth carrying a girl against his chest, both of them blood-spattered, he can’t help being reassured. Sephiroth seems to have dropped the aggressive attitude, at least. Angeal gestures for his best Seconds to accompany him as he goes to apprehend Sephiroth. And then the third figure steps out into the light properly, and Angeal’s heart almost stops.

His best friend. It’s him. It has to be. When Genesis sees him, he grins and rakes his hair back nervously, exactly like when they were kids. Angeal tries to remember his duty of protecting the city if Sephiroth breaks down again, but he’s not even controlling his feet as they trace a direct path to Genesis.

‘You’re supposed to be dead!’ Angeal shouts through an incredulous smile, grabbing Genesis by the shoulders. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? The real Genesis?’

Genesis is smiling up to his ears. ‘The one whose family you still owe for smashing the living room chandelier back when we were fourteen? Yeah, it’s that one.’

Angeal laughs. ‘I knew you’d do this. Make me look like an idiot only to spring back to life again.’

‘Hey, it’s not every day you get to be legally dead,’ Genesis says. ‘Bet they couldn’t run up my bar tabs even if they tried.’

Angeal gives him a companionable slap on the shoulder, and then gathers him up into his arms, laughing with sheer glee. The break of character attracts attention, as does Sephiroth’s towering figure – he’s helping Aeris to her feet, warding off approaching medics as they offer to take her in one of their ambulances. Both of them have seen enough doctors for a lifetime. Aeris at least accepts a blanket from them, smiling tiredly as she thanks them.

When Gem looks across the plaza at the commotion and sees who Angeal is talking to, she has to wonder for a moment if this Genesis isn’t another trick, another hybrid, but the way Angeal is smiling at him can only mean one thing. She excuses herself, heels knocking against the paving stones as she walks towards them. Genesis sees her coming, and his face softens into a wistful sort of expression that completely breaks her.  She flattens a hand over her mouth, brow creasing up as she holds back her tears. Then she shoves Angeal out of the way and all but barrels into her old client. Her old friend. He gives a huff as she squeezes the air out of him.

‘First of all, fuck you,’ Gem grumbles against his throat, and his arms tighten around her as he grins. The smell of her – the scented hairspray, the perfume, and that peculiar tang of petrol and rusty metal – he always associated it with a world removed from this one, the safe bubble of bliss that she would create for him, so it’s unexpectedly good to bask in it again. He inhales deeply, momentarily forgetting everything around them. Then she pulls away, takes his face in her hands and says, ‘Second of all, how _dare_ you make me experience emotions like this,’ and he can’t help laughing again. 

Angeal has turned to Sephiroth and the blood-spattered girl, leaving Genesis and Hegemony to reunite. Even with the joy of having Genesis come back to them, the centre of the city is still in chaos, and he can’t stop thinking about the distraught phone calls he got earlier. All over the city, people were getting desperate pleas for help from their family members who worked at the HQ. It’s going to be a nightmare to navigate, especially as Sephiroth was supposed to be trustworthy enough to help shape the new city order.

‘Are you alright, Sephiroth? Do you feel stable?’ Angeal asks him. He can’t help remembering what Sephiroth told him mere hours earlier. _It’s vital not to give in to mindless violence._ If he was confronted by Genesis clones, like Gem and Zack had, Angeal can understand that he might’ve found restraint far more difficult. But this is still a disaster, however much Angeal might empathise with his actions.

Sephiroth nods at him mutely. He looks exhausted, and not altogether happy with his own actions. Angeal can only imagine how the sleep deprivation must’ve facilitated his breakdown.

‘Were going to have to talk about this,’ Angeal tells him with a sigh. Then he gestures towards a car with blacked-out windows that several Seconds are guarding. ‘Come on. I have to escort all of you back to the council building.’

Hegemony and Aeris barely have the time for a hug before she has to follow the three Firsts into the car. Angeal tells Gem to continue handling the area with Zack and the Seconds, and Aeris watches Gem’s slowly retreating figure from the car window, placing a hand against the glass as Gem makes phone-call gestures at her, saying _call me when it’s over._

 

• • •

 

They aren’t allowed much rest. Under heavy guard, they are all allowed to clean up and put on fresh clothes before entering the board room where Angeal and different council members are seated. They sit, and begin explaining everything that happened from each of their perspectives, cameras pointed at them and recording every word.

Sephiroth starts. Aeris is still groggy from being pulled out of general anaesthesia, but she tries to feel the impact of his words as he describes what he had hoped for the city, nonchalantly offering up the facts that he’d made the entire army defect from ShinRa. Both Genesis and Aeris stare at him, Genesis asking for specifics, and they are put up to speed about everything that happened while they were locked away.

Genesis then explains what he can about his capture, and mentions that President Shinra is dead. There is a collective groan around the table, suits leaning to mutter in each other’s ears about what this means for the company and how it will impact the different electoral campaigns. Aeris is staring at Genesis, not quite believing her ears.

‘He’s dead? President Shinra is really dead?’ she asks him as the council staff talk among themselves.

‘He’s very dead, yes,’ Genesis tells her. She bites her lip, looking down at her lap, eyes wide as she sorts through what that means for her own status.

‘What’ll happen to us?’ she asks, glancing up at Genesis and then Sephiroth, who are sitting on either side of her. ‘I mean, on paper, we belonged to them.’

The two Firsts exchange a glance. ‘I suppose the contracts will be nullified,’ Genesis says slowly.

‘We’d have to see if the paperwork claims that ShinRa itself had custody, or a particular department or person,’ Sephiroth says. ‘In any case, whatever happens, I doubt Shinra’s son will be allowed to claim his inheritance and steer the company back up from the pit where it currently lies. Most likely, the paperwork will be destroyed along with the company itself.‘

Aeris can’t help smiling, even after everything that’s happened. She’s imagining Elmyra’s face when she announces the news. Gaia, she hasn’t even had the opportunity to call her yet.

She reaches under the table, grasps both men’s hands. When Angeal turns back to them, it’s a little easier to take the verdict, to sit through the politics, with their calloused fingers laced through hers.

•

The easy solution would have been to blame it all on the clones, as they had already begun to do. But Sephiroth refuses to cast the blame aside. He tells them that they would be no better than ShinRa if they started this new regime by lying. He wants to take on full responsibility for his actions. The council all groan again, but Angeal looks at him from across the table, nodding, eyes full of fierce admiration. They agree to transfer the title of General to Angeal, and make Sephiroth’s case public so that his Soldiers might understand his actions and regain confidence in him. It’s risky to switch leadership now, but with Genesis making his comeback, Angeal is confident that the troops will only be more invigorated.

They decide to deal with the aftermath of the ShinRa massacre by handsomely compensating the families of the murdered, and to place Sephiroth under house arrest. He’s to be monitored physically and mentally until he’s fit enough for duty again. They choose a place in Kalm, a vacation house recently seized from one of the billionaires they arrested, isolated in the middle of the countryside. It’s far enough to pacify the Midgar population, and close enough to be accessible on short notice, as Sephiroth is still expected to keep in touch with Angeal about the army hand-over once the next mayor is elected.

Aeris is given the choice of moving to a guarded location for her own safety, seeing the issue of her lineage and her ties to ShinRa. With the instability of the city, she is warned against sticking around while counter-protests are still in action. It stings a little to have to leave behind all the paperwork she painstakingly gathered, but if they manage the kind of political shift they want, then perhaps there won’t even be a Plate to migrate to any more in the coming years. She accepts, giddy with the idea of stepping outside of Midgar on her own terms. She asks for somewhere close, seeing as she doesn’t want to be entirely cut out of the loop either, and ends up being promised a place in Kalm, too.

Genesis is given the weekend to rest, and pushed to retake his position as Commander once he will have recovered. Angeal promises to put him up to speed regarding what’s to be done. And Genesis, looking wearier than ever, nods and smiles at his old friend as he agrees to shoulder the burden once again.

•

It’s so difficult to separate, after holding each other’s hands through the nightmare of the ShinRa labs. Sephiroth, Aeris and Genesis stand in the sprawling marble entrance of the council hall, expected to say their goodbyes in the formal fashion that the environment forces upon them. There are eyes on them, guards waiting to escort Sephiroth and Aeris in their separate directions. The redhead shakes Aeris’s hand first, and when he turns to shake Sephiroth’s, the ex-General pulls him against his chest, his arm coming around Genesis’s shoulders to hold him closer. And then they’re hugging, Sephiroth gathering Aeris up into the embrace so that they can stay locked together a few seconds longer.

‘Promise you’ll keep in touch,’ Aeris mumbles, and both Firsts’ hands tighten around her shoulders, Sephiroth’s mouth moving against her temple.

‘I promise,’ he says.

‘You’ll probably be seeing me over the weekend,’ Genesis says. ‘I can even escort you down right now, if you like.’

Aeris nuzzles his jaw. ‘I’d love that.’

 

• • •

 

Aeris walks through the slums with Elmyra the next morning. It's Friday - polling day. She’s leading her to one of the polling stations they set up in the slums. It’s one of the measures that Angeal insisted on – even those who can’t afford to be legally registered as Midgar citizens should have a say in the running of their city. All around them, people who have already voted are comparing the blue ink stains on their fingertips – the stains won’t wash off until at least forty-eight hours, to ensure that people won’t vote a second time.  

Elmyra has both arms wrapped around Aeris’s. The two women have been inseparable since Aeris was chauffeured back down to Elmyra’s house. Elmyra tried to hold it together, containing herself to several sniffs and nods as a solemn red-haired Soldier stood in her living room with Aeris at his side, explaining to her that they would be moved to Kalm as soon as they could for Aeris’s safety. Like any mother would, Elmyra noticed the smiles that Aeris and the Soldier exchanged when he came to the kitchen table to spread out the contract. Then he’d gone to stand in the doorway, his gaze lingering on Aeris for a moment before he bowed and left them to their privacy. The faucets turned on full blast after he’d gone. Elmyra held onto her daughter, apologizing for not being able to keep her safe, and Aeris hadn’t been able to hold her own tears back as she scolded her mother, reassuring her as best she could.

Midgar is still their city for a few days at least, and both have lived here far too long to abstain from the new right they’ve been granted. Aeris is of course allowed to vote Upworld, but she wants to be by her mother’s side when Elmyra votes for the first time.

Down here there are mostly Hounds, newly promoted to slum Peacekeepers, standing guard at the stations. Aeris brings Elmyra to the one where Gem agreed to meet her, and the girls grin and wave at one another as Aeris stands in the queue. Elmyra leans in, asks who the ‘charming young woman’ is. Aeris laughs, and tells her that they used to work together. That Gem basically acted as her fairy god mother at the Bee, protecting her from scams and teaching her the ropes. Elmyra lifts her eyebrows in Gem’s direction – she’s dressed down, wearing her hair in a high ponytail and her guns at her hips, jeans and flannel shirt making it difficult to imagine her sex worker persona.

When they come close enough, Gem nods at her fellow Hounds and breaks away from the desk to give Aeris a hug. Elmyra stands off to the side, so Aeris says, ‘Gem, this is my mum.’

It’s so strange for Aeris to see her two worlds clash like this. She’s expecting fault lines to crack across the ground, sparks to fly from the two women touching. But Elmyra’s hand safely wraps around Hegemony’s, and they shake hands without any kind of apocalypse happening.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ Elmyra says with an amused smile. She opens her mouth as though to say something – Aeris can imagine the awkward thanks that she probably wants to give Gem for having her daughter’s back. But Elmyra, with all her usual tact, decides against it and simply says, ‘Not every day you see this sort of thing happening in the slums, is it?’

Gem’s smile widens. ‘Tell me about it. This is going to be the first time I ever vote in my entire life.’

Aeris watches the two women launching into a conversation about Midgar, and she can’t help grinning as her worlds merge far more comfortably than she would ever have imagined. Both women are masters at small talk, professional conversationalists, so the rest of the queuing time flies by. Then Elmyra goes to pick from the stacks of candidate names, so Aeris stands close to Gem, wrapping an arm around her tiny waist and squeezing her.

‘Your mum’s so cute,’ Gem says, and Aeris laughs.

‘That’s just the first impression. She’s entirely capable of knocking out any man who might try to approach me.’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt it,’ Gem says with a grin. ‘I’ve always been envious of people who don’t get a collective upbringing. You must get such a personal relationship with your parents when you’re a regular nuclear family.’

Aeris glances up at her. ‘What do you mean by collective upbringing?’

‘Oh. Well, Hounds are brought up collectively. Our family is the gang itself. We don’t privilege parental affiliations. But kids are still mostly brought up by the same group of people, so you could say I have… five mums, and about as many dads.’

Aeris raises her eyebrows. ‘Wow. I’d love to have that many parents.’

‘Oh trust me, you don’t,’ Gem says with an embarrassed laugh.

‘Yes I do! When you take me to meet them we’ll have a literal table-full of people.’

They’re discussing Gem’s different mothers when Elmyra comes back, brandishing her blue finger proudly. They congratulate her, Aeris bouncing excitedly and asking who she voted for. Elmyra keeps the secret with delight, tapping Aeris on the wrist and saying, _I’m not supposed to tell, you know that,_ but Aeris already knows anyway. Gem asks Aeris if she’s ready to go up, and Elmyra clasps Aeris’s hands, beaming proudly at the fact that her daughter can go up and vote with the rest of the registered folk. But there’s worry in the tightness of her grip – it’ll be the first time that Aeris leaves her again since she came back from the labs. Aeris gently coaxes her hands away, reminding her that she’s safe with Gem by her side. And they separate, Aeris bidding her mother good luck with the packing. Elmyra clutches one hand to her chest while she waves with the other.

•

They’ve been queuing for an hour, Gem telling her about how she’s been splurging on interior design now that she can safely live in her flat again, before they realise that Zack is manning their polling station. Aeris turns to face Gem, feeling particularly conspicuous in her blaring pink dress. She hasn’t spoken to Zack or even seen him since that terrible afternoon, after Genesis had supposedly died. Gem rubs her arms companionably as Aeris leans her forehead against Gem’s shoulder and groans. Both girls are loath to go and spend another hour queuing somewhere else – the whole city has spilled into these tiny stations, so all of them have insane waiting times.

‘Hey, if it makes you feel any better, they’ve been giving him all sorts of grunt work to rub his face in it,’ Gem says. ‘I mean, putting someone who’s practically good enough to be a First at a polling station is just insulting. Look at him, he looks so frustrated.’ They glance over at Zack, who is standing there with his familiar arms-crossed, feet-apart pose. His finger is tapping his forearm as he watches the steady trickle of people joining the crowd.

‘Does that mean he’s actually working alongside Genesis?’ Aeris says.

‘Yeah,’ Gem tells her with a scoff. ‘Though from what I hear, Angeal tries his hardest to keep them away from one another.’

‘That’s probably for the best. How can you possibly break the ice after literally stabbing someone in the back?’

Gem smirks. ‘I bet Genesis doesn’t leave him alone about it if they’re in the same place,’ she says. ‘I can totally see Genesis getting everyone to walk backwards as soon as Zack’s in the same corridor, just so he won’t get any ideas.’

Aeris can’t help grinning as she imagines it. Then Zack scans the line they’re in, and she doesn’t react in time – blue eyes hone in on her, and they stare at each other awkwardly before Zack keeps going in his surveillance, looking flustered.

Aeris breathes out. She feels so ready to follow the fast pace of the city, to move on from the smoking rubble and shattered glass walls of the past. Her anger towards Zack only pulls her back to a situation that has long since been resolved. She knows that it’ll only make things feel better if she initiates the path to forgiveness, even if it’ll be long.

Gem goes first. Aeris watches as she casts a haughty glance at Zack, then picks only one name from the different stacks. She forgoes the little privacy cubicles that everyone else uses, sticks the name in her envelope right in front of everyone and strides over to the polling officers.

While the officers find her name in the register, Aeris fidgets, feeling Zack’s presence far too keenly. They’re standing quite close. He’s looking away, like he’s expecting her to ignore him or even move away from him. Instead, she finally forces herself to face him. He meets her gaze with difficulty, practically sweating as she forces him to stay rooted there.

‘If you promise me you’ll let me fight my own battles,’ she says, ‘then I think maybe we can fix this.’

Zack frowns down at his shoes. A few seconds trickle by before he nods once. She holds out a hand with a small smile, and Zack gingerly takes it.

‘It’s just, the battles you pick, Aeris,’ he says with a tentative smile. ‘Couldn’t you pick slightly less dangerous ones?’

 ‘Don’t worry, I don’t plan on doing anything rash in the next few weeks,’ she says, and the way he looks at her like he’s at the end of his tether makes her laugh. She pulls him against her, folding her arm around his body carefully, eyes open as she tries to figure out how the hug makes her feel. He keeps it loose, respectful, and she’s content with the little step of progress they’ve managed to make.

‘There _is_ possibly one last battle I’d like your help with, though,’ she adds as she pulls away. Zack waits, bracing himself. Then she says, ‘Would you be able to help me and Elmyra to move into our new house in Kalm?’

It’s as good an incentive as any to do something entirely neutral together. Fortify the friendship that’s been warped out of shape this past year. The way Zack smiles tells her that he understands exactly why she’s inviting him to help.

‘I’d be happy to,’ he says.

He guides her to the table with the candidate names. Aeris collects all the names, goes to the cubicle, smiling as she basks in the rare feeling of importance. This is her new right. She has a say in this, and her little slip of paper won’t get chucked away somewhere after ShinRa decides they don’t like the election results. She hands her envelope in, wrapped up in the sensation of completeness, like all the lurching events of the past year have all clicked together to create this one perfect moment.

‘Name?’ asks the polling officer. She takes out her shiny ID card, presents it proudly.

‘Aeris Gainsborough,’ she says.

 

• • •

 

The results would be announced forty-eight hours afterwards. All across the city, parties had been prepared – bars and pubs had stocked up on booze, clubs and restaurants fully booked. From the recent surveys, a Green victory was almost guaranteed, so spirits stayed high throughout the weekend – all over the city, banners were hung from open windows, music blared on the streets, beer was poured in big enough quantities to fill a lake.

Aeris had too much to do to let herself be swept up in the festivities. Genesis had called several times to make sure she was OK, and to apologise for not being able to come down after all with his own hectic schedule. She told him not to worry as she couldn't spare time for him either. She had to help Elmyra to get rid of everything they weren't taking with them - they refused to just let the council take care of it, as the council wouldn't hand things out to those in need, as was the custom when people left the slums. And she had her contract at the Bee to properly terminate, too. With the council taking care of all the costs of her moving out, she could technically just leave like a thief in the night, without paying the fee that Boss asked for or even explaining why she’d vanished for so long. But she had too much respect for the place itself, and for the rugged, slightly ham-handed way that Boss had of caring for his girls. She didn’t want to spit on everything that the Bee had allowed her to experience. And she certainly didn’t want to leave her friends there without a proper goodbye.

She was busy giving out Elmyra’s old furniture on Saturday morning, wondering about how to end things at the Bee as she worked, when a familiar silhouette appeared among the crowds of curious children and helping hands.

The suit wasn’t blue any more, but Aeris would recognize that stature anywhere. The slum neons shone on Rude’s bald head, reflecting on his sunglasses as he approached her.

She was surrounded by friends, but she couldn’t help feeling frozen on the spot, every muscle in her body tensing as she prepared to run. She had to remind herself again, that ShinRa was defeated, that the Turks had scattered to the winds, some joining the cause, others using their skills to disappear entirely.

Rude offered to help the men haul a velvet sofa from the pick-up truck that one of Elmyra’s friends had lent them. Aeris watched him work, wanting nothing more than to swat those dirty hands away from her mother’s things.

Once the sofa had been set down in its new home, Aeris found the courage to march up to him.

‘What do you want, Rude?’ she bit out.

Rude dusted his hands on his pressed trousers. Then he did something she’d never seen him do before. He took off his sunglasses. She blinked up at his surprisingly clear, steel-grey eyes.

‘Our chief is still in the hospital,’ Rude said. ‘Sephiroth did him some serious harm. But it isn’t just that. He doesn’t seem to be… responsive to treatment, or magic.’

Aeris could see the sunlit hospital rooms she’d worked at in August, Tseng’s body stretched out on one of the plump blue hospital beds. ‘So?’ she asked, heart thumping. ’What’s that got to do with me?’

Rude shrugged. ‘I just thought I’d tell you. If there’s anything you want to say to him, after all these years. Now would probably be the time.’

He accepted to leave after he’d relayed the message, understanding that having discarded the blue suit didn’t mean he could cast away the past so easily. And Aeris couldn’t shake the image of the hospital room as she climbed back into the pick-up truck. Her eyes glazed over as she let Elmyra’s friend drive her to the next location. Tseng, hooked up to monitors that showed the steady beat of his heart. Tseng, who had seen her grow up, who had haunted her every step ever since that night at the train station.

It would be the only time she would ever stand over him. Like she had stood over Hojo. She just wondered if such a fantasy could really bring her closure. The conversation with Hojo certainly hadn’t made her feel anything else than disgust and overwhelming flushes of heat and cold, plunging her into emotional chaos.

Perhaps closure didn’t happen straight away. Perhaps closure happened years after the fact. In any case, as soon as she allowed herself to imagine the encounter, it was impossible to stop thinking of all the different things she wanted to say to him, all the arguments and insults she wanted to fling at him. It was maddening.

That evening, she found herself traveling up to the Midgar hospital. It was mostly to quiet the voices in her head, the different versions of the conversation she was predicting.  She still hadn’t decided on what the hell she’d even say to him as she asked for him at the reception. They gave her a room number, and she was wringing her hands as she followed the nurse through a corridor, unable to stop thinking, _if he’d only helped us, Ifalna could’ve been brought to a place like this, given a room, a bed, the breath of life I couldn’t give her._

The nurse showed her a door, and Aeris looked through the glass panel. The sight of him was unexpectedly painful. He was hooked up to an intensive care unit, laying back in a position of utter submission, his life tangled up in the complicated tubes and wires.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Aeris asked.

‘Well, we tried everything we could, but sometimes magic doesn’t work,’ the nurse told her. ‘It’s rare for a patient’s will to overrun Cure spells, but when a person doesn’t want to be Cured… it simply can’t happen, or at least the efficiency of the spell is weakened. And with the severity of his wounds, it’s been very difficult for us to keep him steady. We’re days away from having to induce a coma.’

Aeris turned around for a moment. She didn’t understand why her throat was growing so tight. She should be happy, rejoicing that the man who had stalked her every step would soon be permanently gone.

‘Sorry,’ she said to the nurse, rubbing the heat from her eyes. ‘I don’t know if I can go in.’

‘Take your time, dear,’ the nurse said, touching her arm tenderly before leaving her to her indecision.

She wasn’t sure if Tseng was even awake. His head was turned away, towards the windows that opened onto the city outside. Telling herself that she had come all this way already, she breathed in, made herself walk to the door. Turned the handle. Stepped inside.

Tseng didn’t turn his head even as she shut the door behind her. Cursing the lump in her throat, Aeris forced herself to take one step closer. The bedside table had a sprawling bouquet on it, with a card that was signed _Elena._ It made her irrationally glad that she wouldn’t be the only one to see him.

‘If this is about the helicopter again, Reno, I told you already,’ Tseng said. ‘I’m _not_ giving it to you so you can crash it after two weeks.’

He was speaking with a kind of off-handed tone that Aeris had never heard before. She realised as she stood there that she’d never imagined how he might be towards people he considered his friends. How he might laugh with them. Have inside-jokes. Though she’d definitely heard him bark at Reno for his lack of etiquette more than once.

Gaia, why did she feel like crying? She sniffed, then realised with a jolt that he could hear her. She promptly wiped her nose, breathing through her mouth.

He turned his head, frowning at the sound. Thankfully his face didn’t bearing any marks of battle – his chest was covered with bandages though, so Aeris quickly glanced at Elena’s flowers before their gazes could lock.

‘Aeris?’ he said softly.

She wanted to run out of there. There was nothing she could say that would do justice to everything she had felt for this man. Anger. Hatred. Revulsion. That incomprehensible urge to be the best she could be, knowing he had his eye on her. Like performing for an omniscient presence.    

‘I don’t deserve your tears,’ Tseng told her.

‘No. You don’t,’ Aeris bit out.

She stood there for a moment. There was a TV on the other wall, facing Tseng’s bed, and though it was on mute Aeris knew the reporters were probably going over surveys and candidate speeches, like they had been for the past few days. She wondered if Tseng would be in here when the results came through. If he would even be alive.

‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,’ Tseng said. Aeris kept her eyes fixed on the flower petals, memorizing each little crushed-berry stain and silky ruffled edge. ‘I would never have booked you. I respect you far too much for that.’

Aeris scoffed, glancing over to finally meet his dark, shining eyes. ‘You respected me so much that you threw me right into Hojo’s arms instead?’

Tseng sighed. ‘I know you’ll find this to be meagre justification,’ he said. ‘But my relationship with ShinRa has always been complicated. They gave me an assignment to watch over you. So that’s what I did. Taking you in was always part of the contract. But anything beyond the contract was entirely in my hands. So I have always tried to be as respectful as I could, within the confines of my contract.’

‘Right. Great,’ Aeris said. ‘I guess that makes everything better, then.’

Silence stretched between them again, before Aeris asked in a small voice, ‘Why are you refusing to be Cured?’

Tseng looked over at the muted TV screen. ‘I never thought I would see ShinRa fall. I fully expected to die on the field. Turks are only allowed to leave ShinRa in a body bag, surely you know that. But now that it’s all over, now that I’m free from them, there are things I’ve done… things I can never find forgiveness for.’ 

His words tugged at Aeris’s heart in a way she would never have expected. He had said it himself – she shouldn’t feel pity for a man like him.

‘So you’re just going to give up?’ Aeris said. ‘Without even trying to fix the wrongs you’ve done?’

Tseng looked at her again. ‘Think about it, Aeris. Would there be any way that I could even start repaying you for the harm I’ve caused you? And you’re just one person. There are hundreds of others whose lives I’ve broken. Most wouldn’t even want me to be the one to extend a helping hand.’

‘I think it’s a waste to just give up,’ Aeris told him.

‘You don’t understand,’ Tseng said, shaking his head.

‘Yes I do,’ Aeris snapped. It was getting harder to talk past the lump in her throat. ‘You’re just a coward. You always have been.’

She turned her back on him, stepping towards the door. If she stayed any longer she’d start crying in earnest, and there was no way she was letting him see her in that state.

Just as she put a hand on the door handle, he said, ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’

She glanced over her shoulder at him. Tried to reply, but her throat was too tight for any words to come out. So she brushed the tears from her eyes, opened the door, and walked out.

 

• • •

 

Sunday. The election results were going to be that very evening. Aeris helped Zack to load boxes into their removal van all morning, Elmyra watching them from the kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate in her hands. Aeris managed to crush Zack’s foot as they worked, and they laughed as she helped him hobble to the kitchen for their much-earned reward. As tactful as ever, Elmyra decided that the boxes in the van needed to be sorted, leaving them to their privacy. Aeris made sure she was out of earshot before asking Zack what she should do about the Bee.

‘I really want to go in and end things properly, but I don’t want another shouting match with Boss,’ Aeris sighed.

‘Honestly, he’s mostly fine with absences and people quitting as long as he’s given some warning,’ Zack told her. ‘ _Your_ problem is that you keep vanishing into thin air without any notice, so yeah. Not sure there’s any course of action where he _doesn’t_ get his pants in a twist about it.’

Aeris let her face drag down the fist she was resting it on. ‘You think I should just march in there, then? Explain everything and hand him the lump of money as a sweetener?’

Zack patted her hand. ‘I can come with you to make sure he behaves himself.’

 ‘Alright.’

 •

Aeris was sweating as she came up to the Bee doors. The bouncers greeted her, pretending to be overjoyed that she was still alive. She took their teasing, wondering how awkward they’d feel if they’d known just how close she’d come to being locked away for the rest of her life. The girls inside greeted her warmly, some of them telling her that they’d been seriously worried. Aeris pacified them, feeling the glow of familiarity envelop her.

Boss was standing in the doorway of his office when she untangled herself from the girls. Zack immediately came to her side, puffing his chest out as he usually did when fending off aggressive males. But Boss was nowhere near as vindictive as Aeris had expected. He looked like he had been waiting for her to arrive. Zack promised her loudly that he would wait for her outside while Aeris walked into his office, the door shutting behind them.

‘So,’ Boss said as she stood by the desk. ‘Funny thing happened last night. I got a phone call about you.’

Aeris raise an eyebrow. She had been communicating regularly in Cetran with Sephiroth – images of what she was up to, politics and moving and warm evening atmospheres, so there was no reason why he’d take up this old habit of going through Boss to talk.

‘A certain ex-Turk,’ Boss said. Aeris went very still. ‘He told me he’d heard that you were moving out of town, so he wanted to know if there was anything he could do to facilitate the professional transition.’

Aeris frowned down at the desk, not quite knowing how to feel. Boss went on to say that it had hardly been right for her to make him worry for an entire week, only to hear that she was preparing to leave without even telling him herself. She nodded through the lecture, folding her arms as she tried to understand the implications.

‘Was he asking to buy me?’ she asked.

‘Not exactly. He didn’t mention anything about wanting to supervise your insertion into whatever upper class there’s going to be left, after these elections. He simply said he would pay your cancellation fee if you were so inclined,’ Boss said. ‘And _are_ you so inclined, Chimera? Are you really leaving us, just like that, without even a day’s notice?’

Aeris found herself smiling. Tseng had listened to her. He was trying to do her a favour, offering to snip off the last tie that still connected her to Midgar. She couldn’t help wondering if this meant he’d gone back on his decision to let himself slip into nothingness, after all.

‘Yes,’ she said, looking at Boss. ‘I’m leaving.’

Boss’s chest seemed to deflate at that. ‘Of course you’re leaving,’ he grumbled as he got up. ‘All of my best workers are leaving at the same time. First it was Hegemony, then Vale found herself someone, and now you.’ He came around his desk to stand in front of her. Then he held out his hand, his mustache quirking.

‘You do realise that not giving me any notice usually results in the cancellation fee being higher.’

‘I guess you’ll just have to tell Tseng that,’ Aeris said as she took his hand.

‘I will,’ he said. His beady eyes were twinkling. ‘I’m sad to see you go.’

She found herself smiling up at him. ‘But I’ll be freeing up a space for someone new, right?’

‘Of course,’ Boss told her. ‘That was always the goal. Though, who knows what kind of place the Bee will become, once the Greens start transforming everything?’

‘I’ll have to come back and visit sometime to see it,’ Aeris said, and Boss nodded.

‘Any time you like. Just give me at least an hour’s notice, alright?’ Boss teased her, and she laughed.

The goodbyes with the girls had her in tears. They bought her drinks, asked her to describe where she was going – she told them she couldn’t say anything specific for security reasons, and they all went wide-eyed, tittering curiously about what she’d gotten herself into. She handed out the gifts she’d prepared, miniature potted plants, toiletry packs from up above, and her usual glyph-stamped charms, and when she was crying too much to speak they all piled onto her in a group hug. They made her promise to come back and visit them, and she did, smiling and laughing with them one last time. Then she went to the doors, glancing over her shoulder at the place that had seen her grow so much in the past year, at the people who understood the dualities of her profession so very personally.

She passed the threshold. Looked up at the neon-lit exterior, the cruddy walls awash in pink lights that erased all imperfections. She tried to tell herself it wouldn’t be the last time she came here. And she left down the lantern-dotted dirt path, smiling as she listened to the shouts and raucous laughter that had accompanied her nights for so long, feeling as though that pink neon light had seeped into her chest and was throbbing in time with her heart.

 

• • •

 

Aeris clutched Zack’s arm as Zack drove them down the main Midgarian highway in the removal van, getting closer and closer to the wastelands beyond. Zack's parents had tagged along for the ride, driving behind them in their car, eager to see the new house and help out. The bridge arched over the wall that held in the slums, and then the horizon was a limitless haze of brown earth. However desolate it was, Aeris had never seen so much bare, open land. When the road finally dipped onto firm ground she shrieked and laughed and held onto Zack and Elmyra’s hands as the van rocked over the uneven road. She asked them to stop after barely a hundred metres, and both Zack and Elmyra watched, hearts in their throats as Aeris walked out into the wastelands.

Arms out, she spun around in circles, tilting her head back to look at the sky. After a moment she let herself fall to the ground, arms spread like she was going to make a dirt angel. Zack got out of the van to join her. She was smiling up to her ears when he crouched down next to her, teasing her about her dirty dress. Then she pushed herself up into a sitting position, her eyes shining as she looked at him. He pulled her into a hug, and they huddled there for a moment, Aeris holding onto him like she’d never let go.

 

• • •


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks... god, I can't believe I'm saying this. Jesus Christ. This is the last chapter. Fuck. I'm just smiling up to my ears right now, I can't believe I'm actually writing this sentence. I was scared of not having anything to say at this point because I'm still like, "shit I have to do the final run-through of the whole fucking fic and write the epilogue and then draw the cover art etc" so it doesn't FEEL finished to me at all, but nailing these scenes and wrapping things up was just so amazing to do and gave me such a huge feeling of accomplishment after each new scene break. :'D I just can't believe I've managed to get here after almost a decade spent in this fic's world. I'm gonna try and get the epilogue done in the next two days and then get on with the cover art/publishing process, so I suppose you'll be getting the teary thank-you message on my tumblr once I can actually hold the test copy of this fic in my hands. :'D But in the meantime I'd still like to say that I really, really cherish every single reader and every single reviewer who's followed me up till this point. I know I'm shit at replying to everyone, but please do know that your comments always have me bouncing on my chair and making inhuman noises of glee and I go through them a lot to give myself confidence boosts. :D
> 
> Huge kudos to those of you who have been with me since the first draft, and especially huge kudos to those who've followed the fic since 2009! <3 I'm so happy to have been able to share this world and enjoy these headcanons with you guys. Damn, I'm getting sappy. Love you all, hope you enjoy this chapter (even though half of it is just gigantic fanservice really) and I'll see you soon for the epilogue! xx
> 
> ps: it'll be kinda embarrassing if there are problems with this chapter but as always, if you detect anything please gimme a shout. xD
> 
> pps: I made a fucking playlist for these last two chapters because I'm a huge sap like that so here you go:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-cWo2-IgMg&index=1&list=PLl_govlnMnqp8AFeN2xhuTYnBG1IAMlhe

• • •

 

They arrived in Kalm sometime in the afternoon. Aeris gaped at the blue-tiled roofs, the blue paving stones, the way the whole town felt like some kind of rest-stop where everyone could lay down their troubles. On their way through the farmlands that circled the town, Zack had pointed out one of the large manors, telling them that that was where Sephiroth was holed up.  Aeris stared. The place had _spires._ Elmyra made a comment about how he was certainly getting exceptional treatment for someone who had literally burned ShinRa down to the ground. Zack just stared ahead uncomfortably, so Aeris put a hand on his arm and changed the subject.

The house that the council had given them was far less extravagant, but still worlds away from what they were used to. There were wide hardwood floors, high windows, stairs leading up to fully furnished bedrooms that all had their own fireplaces. It was difficult to push the women to work when they kept oohing and aahing over every corner of the house, but Zack and his father eventually managed to steer them back to the van to begin unloading boxes.

The election results would be at midnight, so at around eight o’clock they gave up unpacking and collapsed in the plush living room sofas, getting ready for a long evening of speculation. Aeris wandered over to the kitchen – Gem had called her to know her plans for the night, yelling over the noise of the party she was helping Snow to host at the Blue Dragon.

‘The whole city’s going crazy! It’s amazing!’ she shouted. ‘You should come to the Dragon to watch it with us, it’ll be great!’

Aeris grinned. She was tempted by the idea, but she hadn’t decided who to watch the elections with quite yet. Zack certainly wasn’t the right person, especially with their friendship still in a vulnerable state. And Elmyra wasn’t necessarily in on the intricacies of the hand-over of power. She wanted to spend the evening with people who understood and could relate to the whole thing just as intimately as she could.

In reality, deep down she’d known since polling day – there weren’t many people that fit those criteria. And she hadn’t managed to see either Genesis or Sephiroth since their verdicts had been handed to them. It was far past time for her to organise a proper reunion.

Once she’d gently turned Gem down and suffered her boisterous complaints and assurances that Aeris would certainly not find a better crowd, Aeris closed the kitchen door and called Genesis.

‘You know what,’ Genesis said as soon as he picked up, ‘I’ve put about three different heads of state on hold for you. Which is exactly the way it should be. How are you, darling?’

Aeris blushed, automatically hiding her grin with one hand though there was no one to see. ‘Who are you watching the elections with?’ she asked.

‘Who am I watching - ? Oh, Aeris. If you knew. There are some of the best parties in the world brewing all over Midgar, and I can’t attend a single one. I’m part of the security force, I need to be there when the new mayor is elected and walks through Midgar to do his speech.’

‘Oh,’ Aeris said, shoulders drooping. ‘Well. Isn’t there any way you could sort of – lump all the responsibility onto Angeal? One First is more than enough, right?’

Genesis laughed. She was glad to hear how alert he sounded, nothing like the weariness he’d displayed for so long. ‘Both me and Sephiroth have already lumped far too much responsibility onto that man. I agree that he could technically handle things himself – I mean, we do have the entire fucking _army_ supervising this. But we need this whole evening to be as drenched in counter-ShinRa symbolism as we can. And Angeal needs some emotional support too.’

‘I know someone else who could use some emotional support tonight,’ Aeris said. Genesis went quiet, so Aeris took the plunge; ‘If Sephiroth can’t be allowed to be present at the election that he made happen, then there’s no reason why you should stick around too, especially if it’s just for symbolic value. Can you imagine him? Sitting in front of the TV like he didn’t have a huge part in the whole thing? You should see his house, Genesis – I know it’s technically meant to serve as some sort of jail for him, but it’s like a _castle,_ it must be so empty _–_ ’

‘Don’t do this to me, Aeris,’ Genesis groaned. ‘Please. I have duties. This is important.’

‘More important than us?’ Aeris said. ‘Right. OK then.’

Genesis laughed again. ‘I can’t believe you. This is emotional blackmail. I won’t stand for this.’

‘I guess I’ll just go by myself then.’

‘Yes. Please do,’ Genesis said, his tone a little more serious. ‘I’ll admit that it’s completely unfair for him to have to miss this, but – I really can’t come, Aeris. I’m serious. I’ll be much happier knowing that he’s got you, at least.’

‘I guess I’ll be seeing you on the TV, then,’ Aeris said, trying not to let the disappointment gnaw at her. ‘Have fun being a symbolic prop.’

•

Zack knew that a condition of their new friendship was that he shouldn’t say anything about who she chose to frequent. When she told everyone that she was going to a party, he alone was stonily silent as their parents all fondly criticized her for not keeping them company. Something about his expression told her that he knew exactly where she was going. He looked down at the flowery dress and fine nylons she’d changed into, his face pinched. She fully expected him to get up, take her into the kitchen and launch into some rant about how it was all a terrible idea and how he didn’t understand her relationship with Sephiroth at all. But instead he just turned back to the TV, ignoring her as she said her goodbyes.

The air was crystal clear, the sky chock full of stars once she’d gone far enough from the town centre. There was almost no one outside, except for the one street where all the bars were. It felt so strange to not have bodies to wind through as she always did in the slums. She still checked dark alleyways and strained to hear footfalls that never came, trying to grow accustomed to the sound of the wind in the trees.

When she heard the sound of a car coming towards her, she tensed up, reflexes kicking in as she mindlessly turned to check for Turks. But it was only the big white removal van, a moving anachronism in this cosy old-world town. Aeris immediately felt silly for fearing the worst.

Zack was behind the steering wheel, driving alone. He stopped next to her, arm hooked over the scrolled-down window.

‘I’ll drive you,’ he called over. ‘That manor is ages away.’

Aeris blinked. He seemed sincere. She allowed herself to smile. ‘OK.’

They didn’t talk much. It was a good thing the trip wasn’t more than ten minutes. Aeris wrung her hands in her lap, feeling horribly awkward as she imagined what Zack must be feeling. They reached the farmlands, the nocturnal landscapes scrolling past, and Aeris was glad for the ride – she doubted she would’ve felt too safe out here on her own.

When they turned into the wide road that led to Sephiroth’s manor, Zack finally spoke up.

‘It’s your business, like you said. I just want you to be safe, so if anything happens, you call me, OK? I’ll literally be ten minutes away.’

It was slightly grating, but it was a step forwards nonetheless. Aeris nodded at him.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘But thanks.’

They stopped a little way away from the black armoured cars that were parked along the street. The manor was facing a wide field, and had a beautiful iron-wrought fence guarding the entrance. Aeris got out of the van and wandered towards it. Guards manned the fence on the outside, and once she was close enough to see, she spotted more black vehicles in the extravagant driveway that stretched between gate and manor. It even had its own _roundabout,_ though it was small _._ She stood there on the other side of the road, staring, taking in the sheer opulence of the place.

There was a light on in the ground floor. Perhaps he’d already turned on the TV, too. Aeris had wondered at first whether to ask Sephiroth’s permission rather than surprise him – perhaps he wasn’t as starved for company as she expected he might be. But he had been painfully visceral in the messages he’d sent her over the weekend. She’d be in the middle of packing when images of bloody hand prints appeared on the cardboard, red trails smearing along the floor, and she would look up only to see his ghostly figure pacing in the darkness of a large unfamiliar bedroom. It was his way of asking if she was alright, of telling her that he was still shaken about the whole thing. At least her and Genesis had enough work to take their mind off of what had happened in the labs, but he was locked up in there with nothing else to think about.

 When he managed to distract himself away from those memories, he’d play with images and sounds and smells, as though testing his vocabulary. In the mornings she’d wake up to a whiff of strong coffee even though Elmyra’s coffee machine was already packed up – throughout the day she’d smell soaps and flowers, or the heady scent of his own sweat, and sometimes the complicated olfactory bouquets of what he ate. There would be sounds of birdsong, creaking stairs, or the notes of a piano. One face kept coming back – he managed to put the message across that he was seeing a therapist, as per his arrangement with the council. More often, he’d send her sensations that he was becoming quite fluent with – his hands on her body, running up her thighs, teasing her neck, sinking into her hair. The possessive crush of his body against hers, his mouth against the most intimate parts of her, hot and wet and sending shivers up her spine. She would lay in bed, just as sleepless as he was while she anticipated the next contact, the next whispered words.

It was easier somehow. To talk like that, fumbling with images and memories and vivid desires, rather than picking up the phone like normal people would. She had no idea what she would say to him over the phone. The last time she had seen him, he’d been haggard and murderous and covered in blood. It was difficult to pick up the conversation after that, especially through such an impersonal medium as the phone. _Hi, are you better now?_ She was almost afraid of seeing him again without Genesis by her side.

She could hear a car purring up to her. Turning her head, she saw another black car with tinted windows slowly crunching to a halt on the gravelly tarmac. A door opened, a tall lithe figure stepping out. Aeris grinned as she saw a head of red hair in what little streetlight reached this place.

Genesis turned to her, wearing a smirk. He was in some kind of ceremonial costume, all smooth black fabrics and golden tassels. The padded shoulders and cinched waist flattered his body far too much. Aeris strode over to him and sank into his arms.

‘Angeal will have my head for this,’ he groaned into her hair. Then he drew away and crooked an elbow at her, which she took. ‘Come on then,’ he sighed, as though this were a chore for him. ‘On your head be it if someone decides to Zantetsuken the fucking mayor.’

They’d barely taken a step when Genesis stopped again, head turned. Aeris followed his gaze and found Zack standing by the bonnet of the van, arms crossed as he watched them. Heart in her throat, she waited for one of them to react. Then Zack lifted a hand in greeting, which Genesis did not reciprocate.

Zack seemed to get the message, because he turned around and got back in the van. Feeling like an apology was needed, Aeris said, ‘He wanted to drive me. I think he’s beginning to accept the idea that he can’t do anything about my disastrous love life.’

Genesis broke out of his stasis to smirk down at her. ‘Good. I don’t particularly want to be reminded of his existence most of the time, so him intruding on my personal life would not be advantageous for either of us.’

He was being very careful with how he spoke about Zack, as though he respected Aeris too much to drag him in the dirt. Aeris felt awful for both of them, bowing her head as Genesis walked her to the gate and Zack started up the van. Genesis exchanged a few words with the guards, and they stepped aside and let them through. Aeris sighed as she stepped out of Zack’s line of sight, reminding herself that she had no business feeling guilty for her choices.

She was giddy with excitement and a tad of fear at what they would encounter past the threshold of the manor. Their boots crunched on the white gravel of the driveway as they made their way towards the front door.  

‘Have you heard from Sephiroth at all?’ Genesis asked her quietly, both of them aware of the guards surrounding the driveway.

‘Kind of,’ Aeris said with a tilt of the head. ‘I just know that he’s been distracting himself a lot. And resting, as he should be. Have you?’

Genesis’s arm tightened a little around her hand. ‘No,’ he said. ‘On the one hand I’ve been busy, but on the other…’

Aeris glanced up at him. He seemed a little distressed at the idea of meeting Sephiroth again in this casual context, after all that had happened. She wrapped her free arm around his.

‘It’ll be alright,’ she told him.

•

They were both holding their breaths when the light in the lobby turned on. There was the sound of bolts being unlocked – it seemed strange for them to leave the choice of locking the front door to the tenant, but Aeris supposed that they all knew Sephiroth could get out if he really chose to. All this was for show, for the benefit of those who would sleep better knowing that he was incarcerated. The guards were only there as props illustrating Sephiroth’s own willingness to serve his sentence.

The door swung open. Aeris’s hand tightened on Genesis’s arm. Sephiroth was standing in a luscious entrance, dressed in a black silk shirt and pleated trousers, his hair a little disheveled as it fell loosely down his front, like he’d just ran his hair through it. Aeris was glad to see the dark circles under his eyes had begun to clear a little.

Mako eyes slid from one guest to the other. Then, looking at Genesis, he said, ‘So that’s why they’re panicking.’

‘Oh, Goddess, don’t tell me,’ Genesis said. He looked like he wanted to barrel right in to check the TV. ‘Is there a riot? Has somewhat shot the candidates?’

Sephiroth laughed. ‘Well there’s no way of knowing, is there? Since you’ve elected to join me out here in the middle of nowhere.’

‘Crisis, tell me those council bastards at least let you have a _TV._ ’

‘In between the marble floors and the gold-rimmed Jacuzzi, yeah, I think it’s somewhere in here.’

It was so good to hear him laughing again. Aeris wasn’t quite sure she’d ever seen him so relaxed – at least, she hadn’t been privy to this easy banter they could both have. Then Sephiroth looked down at Aeris as though he somehow knew that this was her doing, Genesis being there, both of them coming to savour this experience with him. The sheer tenderness of his gaze made her cheeks flush. He stepped back, allowed them to come in, before shutting the door on the guards’ curious faces.

Aeris wasn’t quite sure how to act. She automatically turned to the wall to take her shoes off, and when she turned around again the men were holding each other close, Sephiroth’s fingers digging into Genesis’s shoulders, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She was smiling up to her ears when they separated, Sephiroth awkwardly standing there and asking if he could take their coats. 

The interior of the manor was just as ridiculous as the private roundabout in the front yard. Aeris lost herself in the different kitchen appliances as Sephiroth showed them the two massive silver fridges and countless cabinets. He stopped trying to explain what things were for after a while, opening his arms in helpless defeat, so Genesis and Aeris dove into the fridges. They cobbled together enough alcohol and snacks to bring to the living room, which took about five minutes of walking through long corridors with wood paneling and pale mint wallpaper, checking to make sure they weren’t passing the appropriate room.

Aeris stood transfixed when they got to the doorway of the living room. Wood and velvet and brocade fabrics were _everywhere,_ interrupted only by a wall of bookshelves. The TV was the biggest, flattest piece of technology she’d ever seen, clashing against the old-world aesthetic of the rest.

‘Careful. Stand there too long and your eyes will start bleeding,’ Sephiroth warned her as he passed her, encouraging her to come inside with a hand on the small of her back. She turned to look at him.

‘You mean you don’t like it?’ she exclaimed. Both men stared at her, and then at each other.

‘You’ve been to her place in Midgar, right?’ Sephiroth asked Genesis. ‘Was it as bad as – ?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Genesis said with a nod. ‘Basically the same type of place, but with plants. So many plants.’

Aeris pushed away from the both of them with a huff. ‘Quit sucking up to him, Genesis,’ she said. ‘I know you like this kind of thing.’

She carried her bottles to the ornate low table as Genesis protested unconvincingly. There was one big velvet couch with an intricately carved wooden frame, and armchairs on either side. Aeris moved between them and the low table as she set her bottles down.

Genesis switched on the TV, saying something about the results coming up at some point within the two hours. Sephiroth sat in the middle of the plush velvet couch, staying on the edge so he could pour the preliminary white wine. Genesis fell back into the cushions next to Sephiroth, and Aeris sat on the other side, heart pounding as she allowed herself to sink into this context properly. They were all together, they were in a private environment. They could say or do anything they wanted.

Well, not for the moment at least. The imminent election results had a hold on their conversation. Genesis asked Aeris about whether she’d voted, and she detailed the state of the slums and her own experience of it. Sephiroth looked at her with a smile at the corner of his mouth, appreciating how completely exotic and privileged she had found it, when he’d always taken the voting process to be a tedious duty that led nowhere. They spoke for a moment of the other candidates, and the conversation turned to what the politicians could really do for Midgar.

Aeris found that she had as much to say as the two Firsts, pitching in with the slum perspective which they didn’t always take into account. There was a moment when they argued about the plate – Sephiroth kept insisting that it needed to come down, Aeris thought they could do fine by repurposing the slums into something else, Genesis thought a halfway measure would probably be more doable – and they were raising their voices, calling each other’s theories out and jabbing full glasses at each other in their enthusiasm. Aeris found herself smiling as Genesis sat against the armrest, facing them, knocking the side of his hand against Sephiroth’s thigh as he gestured and painted visions of a new Midgar in the air between them.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so content.

‘But if there’s no longer a plate,’ Aeris said teasingly, ‘then there won’t be rivalry between businesses. It was always easy to know the kind of quality you’d be getting, as long as you were standing on floating metal or packed earth. Imagine. Slum brothels and Upperworld brothels couldn’t even compete any more.’

‘ _Ahhh,’_ Genesis said, grinning and raising a hand at her. ‘You raise a very good point.’

Sephiroth looked down at her, silver hair curling over his shoulder as he lowered a hand to her thigh. ‘Speaking of which,’ he said. ‘What did you end up doing about the Honey Bee Inn?’

Aeris blushed as the attention turned to her. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I quit.’

‘Oh _no_ ,’ Genesis moaned, while Sephiroth looked unsurprisingly satisfied. ‘I expect they were broken up about you leaving?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Aeris said. ‘I’m pretty sure Boss used the words ‘staggering loss’. I think they might have to close up shop without me there.’

‘Aeris,’ Sephiroth warned, though he was smirking.

‘Well, I’m sure Kalm has some very nice brothels where you can look for work,’ Genesis added, just so they could both watch Sephiroth tilt his head back and sigh.

‘I might look for some, yeah,’ Aeris said innocently. ‘I hear they keep all sorts of strange millionaires cooped up out here.’

Sephiroth gave her the flattest, most deadpan look to show her how very unimpressed he was by her provocation.

‘I’m joking,’ she told him with a laugh. ‘I think I’ve earned a break from sex work.’

‘That you have,’ Genesis said, giving her a look from across Sephiroth’s figure. ‘And I think it’s far past time we had you all to ourselves.’

The words ignited something deep in Aeris’s belly. _Ourselves._ Their relationship was still unspoken, a chaotic tangle of debts and shared memories and promises, so this would be the first time any of them mentioned it out in the open. She smiled, looking down at Sephiroth’s lap, only to feel his cold fingers against her cheek, brushing her bangs away.

The quiet sound of the TV spluttered to life with the countdown for the results, and they were jarred out of the moment, all of them turning their heads to the screen.

Genesis grabbed the champagne bottle, began to untwist the coil around the gold bottleneck. Sephiroth was saying something about how they all knew it was going to be Aguillard – but Aeris still hopped up onto her feet, crouching on the couch cushion and grabbing his hand while she crossed her fingers with the other. Finally – the charts appeared on the screen. The green bar of Aguillard’s party stretched way further than all the rest. They were in the lead for the first time in thirty years. And the new candidate from the MPD wasn’t even in second place.

Aeris cried out, because it was still so strange to see another colour than the usual MDP red dwarfing all the others. She toppled against Sephiroth, arms around his shoulders whilst Genesis popped the champagne, the cork hitting the ceiling and making them laugh.

‘I told you, it was hardly a surprise,’ Sephiroth was saying, though Aeris’s excitement was infectious enough to have him smiling.

Golden champagne was poured, thick white froth spreading over the fancy coffee table – Sephiroth pretended to be outraged that Genesis was spoiling the beautiful furniture, just to make Aeris splutter in protest.  Their fingers were sticky with sugary residue as they clinked glasses, and Genesis insisted on looping their arms together to drink, which resulted in even more spillage and champagne-slick smiles. By the time Aguillard started the march across the Midgarian high street to the blare of trumpets, they were entirely distracted. Aeris was half sitting in Sephiroth’s lap, his arm around her shoulders while she licked sweet froth from her fingers, and Genesis had an arm along the ridge of the sofa, almost embracing them. The intensity of Genesis’s expression was utterly magnetic as he gazed at both of his lovers.

‘I can’t believe this is actually happening,’ Aeris said. ‘I mean I know we’ve been entertaining the possibility for almost six months, but still. This time last year I could never have imagined any of this happening.’

Sephiroth tightened his hold on her, whilst Genesis said, ‘Well, it’s still early days. We’ve scattered power all over the globe so I just hope none of our new allies decide to plunge right back into the power play that lifted ShinRa up in the first place.’

‘It will never be the same,’ Sephiroth said, glancing down at Aeris. ‘No one will ever have the power and control that ShinRa had, as they owed most of it to their Science Department. Soldier was a project led by three people and their fluke discovery – there’s no way the same set of circumstances could ever be reproduced.’

The soaring feeling of being free from ShinRa’s tyranny immediately collapsed at the implication of Sephiroth’s words. Aeris drew back so she could stare urgently at both men.

‘Couldn’t they?’ she asked. ‘Do you actually know who had access to Jenova? Or where the body even is?’

All three of them exchanged a glance, completely ignoring Aguillard walking up to the podium on TV, drowned in the applause of the crowds. The mood immediately sobered as they all considered a facet of the problem that they had been ignoring until now.

‘I still have Hollander’s files upstairs,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I’ve been staying away from them, but I can comb through them for any indication of where they kept it.’

‘No,’ Aeris said immediately. ‘You shouldn’t expose yourself to that again. You’re supposed to be resting.’

‘I’m not that soft, Aeris.’

‘You have Hollander’s files?’ Genesis said, frowning. ‘When did this happen?’

Sephiroth lifted his chin, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. ‘Last week.’

‘Can I see them?’

‘Genesis,’ Aeris protested, heart pounding. ‘I really don’t think it’s the right time for that.’

‘And we technically have other options,’ Sephiroth told her. ‘Lazard told me that the Turks evacuated Hollander after that night, so if the answer isn’t in his files then perhaps he can tell us himself.’

‘Wait – so you mean Hollander’s at large?’ Aeris said, her heart plummeting. ‘Oh, Gaia. That man could blab ShinRa’s secrets to anybody.’

The speech went on in the background as though it wasn’t a huge historical moment that was being watched and cheered on from all over the world.

‘I doubt he’s unsupervised,’ Sephiroth said, before glancing at Genesis. ‘You can pull some strings and see who has him. I’m sure he’ll be easy to find – the Turks are the ones who organised his escape, so they wouldn’t have just cut him loose afterwards.’

They all sat there for a moment, feeling the utter vulnerability of this loose thread that they had just discovered. Aeris could feel a forest of grasping hands knocking hers out of the way to pull the thread and unravel the whole thing. This must’ve been why ShinRa had been so adamant about keeping the Jenova project itself under wraps – she could feel it more keenly than ever, now.

‘Listen, we can always discuss this later,’ Sephiroth said. ‘If any groups are interested in pursuing Jenova, we have a considerable advance on them already.’

Aeris only sighed, so Sephiroth squeezed her shoulder.

‘Let’s finish watching the speech, at least,’ he said. ‘It’ll only last twenty minutes.’

•

The speech opened with condolences to the dead mayor, and then effusive gratitude towards Midgar’s population for shifting the entire political landscape of the city single-handedly. Aguillard even interrupted himself at one point as though holding back tears, and the crowds roared. Cameras zoomed in on people of all generations crying and holding their gloved hands to their mouths as they brandished the Green party’s official flags. Genesis only rolled his eyes, lifting his champagne flute at the TV and nagging at them to quit the pathos. The new mayor-elect then went on to mention all the different things that were in his program – the slow shift from Mako to sustainable energies, name-dropping the companies with whom he was intending to do business, before bringing up the question of Midgar’s plate, mentioning that human beings living underground was inhumane and that he would begin by speeding up the process of hauling the entire slum population up onto the Plate. The goal would be to eventually wipe the slums clean to make way for warehouses, greenhouses and industrial lots rather than allowing unsanitary residential areas to remain.

Aeris managed to step out of the paranoia about Jenova to throw a finger at the TV, saying, ‘What did I tell you! I called it!’ Sephiroth immediately tried to protest about how it was a terrible idea, that the slums had never even been _meant_ for residential areas in the first place, and that there would always be the same problem unless Midgar’s class and administrative issues were resolved. But Genesis shushed the both of them as the mayor went on: he was giving warnings about how controlled the energy transition would have to be, as the main goal was to shut off Midgar’s reactors one by one and revitalize the land. There were cheers from the crowd again, though he did mention that it would be vitally important to take the time it would need, so that people wouldn’t cling to Mako out of fear.

Once the speech was over Aguillard stepped in front of the podium and bowed to the cheering crowds. Genesis nudged Sephiroth, nodding at Aeris – both of them grinned at the sight of her sitting on the edge of the sofa. Her hands were over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes as she let herself get caught up in the moment.

‘I think we need to cut her off,’ Genesis said, teasingly taking the champagne bottle from her side of the table, and she swatted at him.

‘Shut up,’ she said in a tiny, tear-choked voice, managing to grin as they teased her. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘We do, Aeris,’ Sephiroth told her gently, his arm tightening around her. ‘This is huge. There’s no denying that.’

•

They sat through the slew of subsequent interviews, journalists and economists picking apart the mayor’s new program. After a while, Genesis seemed perturbed. He asked again between two interviews, about whether Sephiroth could at least show him the files, even if they wouldn’t go through them tonight. Sephiroth sighed, and finally conceded, deciding to bring them up to his study.

Aeris grabbed her champagne flute and reluctantly followed them. They trekked through the hallway and up some ridiculously fancy marble staircase with an iron-wrought bannister and a cream-coloured carpet down the middle. The study where Sephiroth had stored Hollander’s files was similarly ostentatious. Sephiroth turned on several huge fringed lamps in the corners which were the only light sources, before leading Genesis over to the chest of drawers where he’d stored everything away. It was giving Aeris uncomfortable flashbacks, to be near this stuff again, so she dithered by the doorway while Sephiroth started unlocking drawers.

‘Gaia below us,’ Genesis muttered as Sephiroth opened countless drawers where files were sorted and arrangement chronologically. ‘How did you get all of this?’

Sephiroth glanced over at Aeris. ‘Patience and perseverance,’ he said, but Aeris wasn’t ready to joke about that night. The glow of success was beginning to be taken over by images of Hollander’s face, the feeling of his scratchy mouth, the insults he’d negligently thrown at her. She stepped out into the corridor.

‘I just need a minute,’ she told them. ‘You can tell the story if you want, Sephiroth.’

She turned into the hallway, pressing herself against the wall once she was out of their sight.  Her hands were trembling as she sipped from her champagne flute, trying to calm down. She wanted to help them, to go back in there and face the trauma of that night, so she told herself that she’d just breathe until she felt ready again. She could hear Genesis ruffling through the papers, and then Sephiroth began telling him about how he’d hired Aeris for a honeypot mission after Genesis’s death had been confirmed.

‘Crisis,’ Genesis said. ‘You sent her to seduce _Hollander?_ You really put her through that?’

‘She’s the one who suggested it.’

‘I can’t believe you sometimes. Do you have any idea how horrifying that must’ve been – ?’

‘She was perfectly aware of what she was getting herself into. She was far more aware than I was, actually. But she insisted on coming.’

Aeris tilted her head back against the wall, closed her eyes and listened to Sephiroth’s version of events.

•

Genesis is staring at him, nodding along, blue eyes following the movements of Sephiroth’s lips as he summarizes what had happened. Sephiroth can feel the growing weight of his friend’s judgment as he tries to be as logical and concise as he can. Once he’s finished, Genesis turns around with a sigh. Fear is beginning to thrum in Sephiroth’s veins as he watches his friend move away, purposefully marking a distance between them.

‘You went through all of that just because you wouldn’t believe me,’ Genesis says with a mirthless grin. ‘Wow. That’s some dedication.’

He’s leaning against the chest of drawers, white shirt bunching as he crosses his arms, auburn hair hiding his profile. Sephiroth breathes out slowly.

‘I should’ve believed you straight away,’ he says. ‘I know that.’

‘It’s just that my word has never had enough weight for you,’ Genesis elaborates for him. ‘There always needed to be someone from the company, someone _credible_ to repeat what I was saying so that you might start taking me seriously.’

‘That wasn’t it.’

‘Oh?’ Genesis turns his head, glaring at him. ‘Then why the hell did you need to steal an entire fucking truckload of official ShinRa-stamped data before you made your move?’

‘I was in denial,’ Sephiroth bites out. ‘You don’t need to hear me say it, Genesis, you know this already. I was afraid.’

Genesis holds his gaze for a moment, his expression growing softer. ‘I think I did need to hear you say it, actually.’

Both men stand there for a moment, and Sephiroth turns to close one of the open drawers, unable to stand the silence.

‘I’m sorry, alright?’ he says to the intricate wooden carvings in front of him.

Genesis turns to face him, leaning a shoulder against the furniture. He just looks at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh.

‘It’s fine,’ he says quietly. ‘It’s done now. We can’t change any of the stupid choices we made.’

Sephiroth glances at him, his chest heavy. ‘You can’t just forgive me like that, in a heartbeat.’

Genesis tilts his head. Then he lets his eyes travel down to Sephiroth’s mouth, following the dips of his neck and the buttons of his silk shirt all the way down to Sephiroth’s beltline. ‘I’ve been known to lack good sense when I’m around you,’ he says with a slow, tentative smile.

Sephiroth has no idea how to reply to that. His whole body seems to grow hot. He still doesn’t understand the urges he has when Genesis is in the same room as him – it’s become a thousand times worse since the labs. Every time he glimpsed Genesis on the TV, every time he listened to him speaking, he wanted him – _wanted_ him in ways he had only experienced once, back in the speakeasy, deep in that candlelit zone where the rest of the world had ceased to exist. The urges blend incomprehensibly between wanting to fight and shout at him but also wanting to hold him, to keep him safe, to destroy anyone and anything that would threaten to hurt him. Truth is, he’s been holding back the urge to kiss his best friend ever since he walked across his threshold. And now Genesis is making himself so very available, setting Sephiroth aflame with a single look.

It’s never been Genesis initiating things. So this time Sephiroth makes himself stand very still as Genesis steps up to him, fitting both his feet around Sephiroth’s as he stands achingly close. Sephiroth can feel the space between them warming, throbbing with the promise of contact. Genesis’s expression seems to have sobered as he stands there, thumbs hooked in his belt.

‘When you came to me that night,’ Genesis starts in a murmur. Sephiroth knows what he’s going to ask, doesn’t want to explain himself, doesn’t want to relive that moment of madness. ‘Was that real? Or just some kind of desperate incentive to change my mind?’

Genesis is looking straight into his eyes. Sephiroth tries not to flinch away. He has no idea what he’s expected to say. So he asks, ‘What do you mean by ‘real’?’

Genesis smirks. ‘You’re no good at this, are you?’

Sephiroth scoffs, staring down at Genesis’s belt buckle. ‘As you may have noticed, not really, no.’

 Genesis reaches up, trails his fingertips along the hollow between Sephiroth’s collarbones and up the side of his neck. For a moment nothing else exists but that sensation and the way those electric eyes are burning into Sephiroth’s. His fingers fold around Sephiroth’s jaw, holding him none too gently. Then he leans in and when their mouths collide it’s all Sephiroth can do to stay standing, moaning softly with the relief of it, his hands coming up to grasp Genesis’s arms.

‘What I’m asking,’ Genesis breathes, ‘is why did you fuck me?’

The words send a jolt down Sephiroth’s spine. He dips his head, dragging his lower lip over Genesis’s, but the redhead won’t let him any nearer, won’t let him cover his calculated omissions with kisses.

‘I don’t know how to put it into words,’ Sephiroth murmurs. But Genesis only presses a thigh between Sephiroth’s, cruelly pushing him up against the chest of drawers, not letting up.

‘Try harder.’

Sephiroth glares at him. They’re so close, he can count the faint freckles that are scattered over Genesis’s cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose, tracing constellations around his eyes.

‘This is another one of your games, isn’t it?’ Sephiroth bites out. ‘Where you know all the answers and you only want to hear me say them?’

‘I wouldn’t be asking you if I knew,’ Genesis murmurs. ‘I would be kissing you instead, but as things stand, I don’t know what that would mean to you.’

Sephiroth is breathless, heart pounding uncomfortably hard as he dredges up all those ugly, visceral things that had pushed him over the edge that night. He’s staring down at Genesis’s mouth as he mutters, ‘I told you. I don’t know how to say it in a way that makes sense. I wanted you to stay with me. I wanted to feel that you were with me, because the thought of you leaving – it made me want to destroy everything, ShinRa, Midgar, all of it. I just – I didn’t know any other way to tell you that I needed you.’

The right words are inching closer to the tip of his tongue and Sephiroth frowns, holding onto what substitutes he can find. ‘I need you,’ he says again, because it sounds the closest to what he means, and because the words seem to chip at Genesis’s shell, uncovering the soft vulnerability beneath.

Then Sephiroth realises what he meant to say, and he slides his hands around Genesis’s face, fingers digging into his hair as the words tumble out: ’I love you, Genesis.’

In the next few seconds he’s asking himself if this is the right context, if this is the right way to say it, because he’s never said it before and he’s always thought that those words were meant for other people, for relationships that were obvious and natural and nowhere near as messy and infuriating as what he has with this man. And with the way Genesis is looking at him, he has no idea if he just made a huge mistake. The seconds trickle by and he wants to throw the blame back onto Genesis, he wants to tell him _it’s your fault for asking me, for making me spit it out, if you’re not happy now then you can only blame yourself –_ but then Genesis frowns, looks away, breathing out as though the words have rammed into him and knocked the air from his lungs.

His eyes are closed when he leans in, sliding his open mouth across Sephiroth’s. His hands have drifted to Sephiroth’s shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt as he pulls him closer.

‘Say that again?’ he asks, and he sounds so achingly hopeful that Sephiroth kisses him, sinks his tongue into Genesis’s mouth, sucks on his lower lip until Genesis is panting and pulling mindlessly at his shirt.

‘I love you,’ Sephiroth says, even if it makes his head spin, even if he feels flayed and spread bare for all to see when he says it. But Genesis is smiling against his mouth, and even though Sephiroth can taste salt on his tongue, he’s beginning to feel like it was the right thing to say. Then Genesis wraps his arms around Sephiroth’s shoulders, moulding the length of his body against him from the hips up to the chest. He sighs brokenly against Sephiroth’s neck as he says, ‘I love you too.’

Sephiroth holds him, not knowing what to do with this sunburst in his chest. It somehow manages to be the most horrendous feeling in the world but also the absolute best. Being as open as this. It reminds him of the bliss he first tasted on Aeris’s lips – the honesty, the feeling of being stripped down to the core, down to what matters most. And it’s necessary, he tells himself, it’s been necessary for a long time, only he didn’t realise he was capable of this. Of wanting this. Of saying it out loud.

Neither are quite ready to let go of each other so Genesis still has his face nestled in Sephiroth’s neck when he asks, ‘How long have you known?’

Sephiroth smiles with something close to embarrassment. ‘I have no idea.’

He feels Genesis scoff against him. ‘OK. So one day you just happened to open your eyes to the fact that you’d really like to fuck your best friend.’

His smile widens as he runs his hands own the dip of Genesis’s back. ‘That’s… an extremely crude way of putting it.’

‘I’m allowed to be crude when you left me hanging in suspense for fifteen fucking years.’

‘Fifteen years?’ Sephiroth pulls back then, looking down at Genesis’s face. There are strands of red hair sticking to his cheeks with the smudged tears, so Sephiroth brushes them away, slicking them back over Genesis’s head. ‘What do you mean, fifteen years? You’ve known for that long?’

Genesis smirks. ‘Well, you do tend to make quite the impression,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I did sort of bury it after a while. I didn’t befriend you just for your body, though it _is_ a work of art.’

‘Genesis,’ Sephiroth murmurs, halfway between scorn and gratitude. Then he leans in again and says, ‘You’re an idiot,’ before kissing him on the mouth, and the angles are all wrong because both of them are smiling too much to do it properly. But it hardly matters at all.

 

• • •

 

Aeris tiptoed down the stairs once their voices had lowered to the kind of tones fit only for intimate conversation. She isn’t entirely sure how she feels, what she should even do as she leaves them to their privacy. She sits in the sprawling baroque living room, trying to watch more election coverage, but she’s too distracted to concentrate.

She’s still caught up in the disgust of Hollander, replaying the conversations about her own worthlessness as a child born in captivity. And the thought process is beginning to lead her down a dark path. As she thinks back on her role in both Genesis’s and Sephiroth’s lives, she’s beginning to feel more and more like a curiosity, like the girl they picked up on their way to self-realisation. And the notion that she spent most of her relationship with Sephiroth as a paid companion is messing with her head again, after she’d finally managed to accept that they had evolved past that. She wanted to come here as equals, to enjoy the fruits of their labour altogether, and it had felt like that in the beginning, it had felt so good. But now… hearing them talk, realising how much they share, it just makes her feel like the bond she has with both of them is so new and practically irrelevant compared to the wealth of shared experience that they have together.

Another part of herself knows that this is all just tied up with issues of self-confidence and that she deserves to go up there and join them, to demand their attention and respect, but she’s too exhausted to be rational. There’s a messy tangle of longing and jealousy in her chest and the problem is, they never laid out the terms for whatever bizarre relationship this is, they never told her what they wanted and if it was OK for her to treat them both like partners. Maybe it’s presumptuous to expect to be treated as such in return. Maybe they’re just tolerating her presence here, now that they’re reunited.

Maybe she should just go.

So that’s what she does. She drinks the last of her champagne, goes to the entrance and starts putting on her layers. She’s halfway into her shoes when she hears echoes from the hall with the marble staircase, and the tap of bare feet along the hallway coming towards her. Genesis is asking loudly about how much champagne they have left, and Sephiroth is teasing him about his intentions to get them all drunk. She blushes, thrusting her foot into her second shoe quickly and hopping over to the front door. It’ll be awkward if they see her.

‘Aeris?’

She’s stuck on one of the damn bolts on the door, not understanding how to twist it, when Sephiroth comes into the entrance. She looks sheepishly over her shoulder, pretending to be arranging her scarf.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks, frowning down at her thick red woolen coat.

‘I’m kind of tired,’ she says. ‘It’s OK, I’m sure I can get a ride home from one of the guys outside.’

‘You’re leaving?’ Sephiroth asks her. She hears a clink of glasses as Genesis puts down whatever drinks he was pouring and comes towards them from the living room.

‘If the guards can’t do it then it’s only a half hour walk,’ Aeris insists, feeling her cheeks growing hot. Gaia, she should’ve been quicker. The confusion on Sephiroth’s face is making her feel terrible.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. There are about four gigantic bedrooms in this place, and it’s the middle of the night,’ he says. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

Aeris stares down at her boots guiltily. ‘I just don’t want to intrude.’

Genesis has joined Sephiroth’s side by then, his steps slowing to a hesitant stop as he observes the scene.

‘Why the hell would you think you’re intruding?’ he asks, and Aeris wants to disappear through the floor. She sighs, and throws up an arm as she decides to just come out with it.

‘You two just have so much history and so much to talk about tonight,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to intrude on that. That’s all.’

‘Aeris,’ Genesis says, stepping forwards and reaching for her, but she twitches her shoulder away from him.

‘I don’t know what this is, I don’t know how to feel about it,’ Aeris manages to say. ‘I mean – until now I’ve just gone with the flow of what feels best, but now I can’t tell if this goes as deep as I’d like to think, or if it’s still just fun to you. And I don’t want it to be just fun. I’ve served as an accessory for a whole year now with work so I guess I don’t want to be an accessory to you both. I don’t want to be some kind of female conduit you use to appreciate each other.’

The words just keep coming once she’s opened her mouth and she’s almost reeling once she manages to close it, pressing her fingers to her lips as though to hold the tangled verbiage in. Sephiroth is looking at her like she’s just betrayed him somehow, whilst Genesis is looking down at her coat, his frown deepening as though putting together apologies for the ways he might’ve used her in the past.

‘How can you think that we’d see you as an accessory? After everything?’ Sephiroth says, his tone ice cold, like she’s deeply disappointed him by thinking so little of the bond they’ve built together. She’s hurting all over and she can’t take that cold gaze, so she turns to stare at the door handle instead.

‘Just - can you tell me what you’re really asking, if you want me to stay?’ she asks in a small voice. ‘I just want to know what you really want. I don’t want to get any more involved without knowing whether or not we’re on the same page.’

Sephiroth hesitates, picking his words, so Genesis is the first to speak up. ‘Well I certainly don’t want you to go. I don’t want to have to let go of one person in order to keep the other. You’re both important to me, you both bring me different things. I feel like we’re… complete like this.’

Aeris looks up at him, her heart in her throat. When he smiles at her it’s so tender and sincere that she feels even guiltier about trying to leave. Then there’s something caressing the edges of her consciousness, and when Sephiroth gazes at her she feels fingertips running down her forearm without him actually moving. There’s the ghostly imprint of a hand grasping her wrist, pulling her towards him, and she sees herself basked in sunlight, her hair streaming past her shoulders, smiling before turning away. The sky turns from clear blue to ripped, shredded grey and she sees Genesis, hunched against the pouring rain, sword brandished as he faces off a snake-like river god. Then the deep royal blue of the sea solidifies into the painted walls of some kind of bar, and Genesis is there again, sitting in the dark, smoking a cigarette, candlelight glinting along his lips. She feels the throb of importance, the images shown to her as though Sephiroth were peeling them from the confines of his heart. There’s urgency to every situation – an implicit fear of them leaving, of Sephiroth never seeing them again. She sees white corridors full of the same acrid fear, hearing it like she would the shrill echo of a scream.

All of the sensations say the same thing. _Stay with me. Stay with us._

She blinks up at Sephiroth as the sights fade away but the ghostly grip on her wrist doesn’t. She can’t speak. It’s like a declaration, and she knows now that she can’t leave, doesn’t want to leave, she just wants to wrap her arms around him and reassure him that she isn’t going to leave him in the maws of that solitude he fears so much.

For Genesis’s benefit, Sephiroth quietly says, ‘I feel the same way.’

‘So you both want me… to be with you?’ Aeris stammers. ‘Properly? Like a sort of equal three-way relationship?’

Genesis smiles. ‘I believe the term you’re looking for is a ‘triad’.’

Sephiroth glances at him. ‘There’s a name for that?’

‘Of course there is,’ Genesis says, like he finds Sephiroth’s ignorance endearing. ‘You’ll find that we aren’t the only eccentrics on this Planet, Sephiroth.’

Aeris has turned to face them fully now, feeling flashes of heat running through her body as she lets herself be swept up in the feeling of being wanted. Needed. She’s grinning as she takes a tentative step forward.

‘Alright,’ she murmurs.

Genesis comes around her, sliding an arm around her shoulders, and she thinks he’s going to hug her but he instead he digs his fingers into the collar of her coat, saying, ‘I don’t think you’ll be needing this any more, will you?’ She’s grinning from ear to ear as Genesis pulls the coat down her arms, and then before she can turn around he’s grabbed her, heaving her up into his arms in a bridal pose, and she kicks and laughs as he holds onto her in a vice-grip.

‘Sephiroth, take her shoes,’ he says, and Sephiroth comes forwards and tugs her boots from her feet, holding her ankles when she tries to kick him away. The boots clatter heavily onto the hardwood floor, one after the other. ‘I think it’s far past time we locked the lady up in the master bedroom so she might stop trying to run away, what do you say?’

‘I think it’s an appropriate course of action, yes,’ Sephiroth agrees in the same curt tone, staring at her with hooded eyes. Aeris is unable to do anything else than blush furiously and pretend outrage while Sephiroth leads them to an upstairs corridor, both of them deciding to leave the mess in the entrance, completely disregarding the implicit codes of conduct that people should adhere to in such a luxurious environment.

The bedrooms are all dripping with gold and rich wood and delicate lace curtains, two of them sporting massive four-poster-beds. Sephiroth leads them to the one he elected – it’s the most sober one, though Aeris suspects that he might’ve shoved all the frivolities to the other bedrooms. She can’t help noticing that he’s taken care to have his fox furs brought over though, as his own little piece of vanity. Her breath catches in her throat as Genesis lowers her onto the edge of the bed.  As he leans over her he drags his mouth along her neck, over her jawline, catching her mouth and she’s smiling as she kisses him back, holding onto fistfuls of his shirt to keep from falling.

‘Don’t you ever,’ Genesis murmurs against her mouth, ‘ _ever_ think that you’re only an accessory.’

He tugs off her cardigan as he kisses her, revealing her flowery blue-gold dress, and kisses his way down her throat, pausing just by her ear to say, ‘I want to be with you.’

Heart pounding, she accepts to open her thighs as he nudges her legs apart, kneeling in front of her. Her cheeks are burning as he nips at her earlobe, murmuring things to her in between kisses. _I want to know everything there is to know about you._ Lips trail over her mouth again as he makes his way to the other side of her neck. _I want to see your face when I take you flying halfway across the world._ Then he’s biting her other ear, nuzzling the tender space just beneath. _I want to walk with you down the Cosmo Canyon archives. Read with you. Talk way into the morning._

 _‘_ You can’t talk to me like this,’ she mutters with a grin, her heart heavy, rubbing her cheek against his soft auburn hair. He gazes up at her teasingly.

‘Oh? Would you prefer if I stopped?’

Her cheeks are aching as her smile widens. She’s only half joking when she says, ‘I don’t know if I can take any more.’

She leans back, hands behind her on the bed, looking down at the red crown of his head as he trails kisses along the wide round neckline and nuzzles into her bosom, hands sliding down her waist. She knows his touch, she knows that he’s only ever wanted to please her, but she still has to close her eyes against the memories of everyone else, trying to allow herself to be with him rather than letting her work persona take control. As always. She’s here because she wants to be here, because they want her to be here. She doesn’t need to brace herself for disgust, for unwanted touches, because nobody’s paying her to take it. Nobody’s asking her to be strong and ignore her own desires.

When she opens her eyes she sees Sephiroth standing a few steps away, lighting a cigarette as he watches them, materia bracer glinting in the lamplight. She wonders if he’s as nervous as she is about coming together like this, without any artifices or excuses to deny that they actually want it. Fire sparks in his eyes as he casts the spell, and then he’s expelling smoke slowly, free hand hooked on his belt as he watches Genesis slide his hands down her thighs. She realises as he stands there, calculatedly aloof, that she isn’t the only one with a persona.

Genesis’s hands sink under her dress, finding the lacy bands of her stockings. He seems delighted by his discovery, leaning in to kiss her again, stealing her breath as she opens her mouth for him to plunder. She thinks he’s going to tug her dress off to better admire what she’s wearing underneath – she had come prepared, just in case, because it was a difficult habit to break, and because perhaps she had hoped for this to happen ever since leaving her new house – but Genesis seems to enjoy how his hands slide over the slippery synthetics, tracing the sides of her breasts, cupping them, making her arch up to him mindlessly. She glances up at Sephiroth even as Genesis kisses her, finding him still smoking, still devouring the sight of them. His eyes on her create the impression of contact, and she can’t tell if he’s sending the sensations to her or if she’s just that sensitive to his gaze.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself when Genesis pulls the hem of her dress higher up her thighs until the heights of her stockings and her black garters are revealed. He rolls it up higher still, uncovering the garter belt and satin underwear. The ensemble is black, shot through by streaks of red and gold thread, and Genesis can’t take his eyes off it as he leans between her thighs, pressing kisses into the creases of her thighs.

She tries to hold Sephiroth’s gaze as Genesis presses his tongue against the satin covering her mound, and she lifts her chin, lashes fluttering, a tiny sound escaping her as he covers her with deliciously wet heat. Sephiroth sends her bits and pieces of what he can see, her long legs around Genesis’s worshipful pose, her glittering eyes, and she’s biting her lip at the appreciation she feels in the images.

Genesis pulls her underwear down her thighs, and she extends her legs as he pulls the satiny slip of fabric all the way off, holding her ankle up so he can kiss her foot. She’s grinning at the devotional gesture, and the way his thumb presses into the underside of her foot feels altogether too good. The contact skirts overstimulation, and she’s practically melting as he makes his way back up her nylon-clad legs, sinking between her thighs again and making her moan as his tongue slips between her naked folds.

Sephiroth has finished his cigarette. He walks to the bedside table to crush it in the ashtray. She hears him unbuckling his materia bracer, and she’s painfully aware of his presence, the sound of the bracer clunking onto the bedside table, the way the mattress sinks as he puts a knee up onto it behind her. He’s sitting close to her in the next moment, fingers tucking her loose hair over one shoulder, making her shiver. Then his lips are by her ear as his hands come around her, sliding over her cleavage, closing over her breasts and making her tilt her head back and sigh. The contact is possessive, controlling, and her pulse goes wild at the memories it brings up.

It’s strange that she still has to breathe through it. Like they hadn’t unraveled each other completely, that night after they’d stolen Hollander’s files. But he’s slipped back into his old habits, perhaps because it’s hard for him to let go of them, to allow himself to share what they’d shared that night.

‘I’m still angry at you, you know,’ Sephiroth murmurs.

‘What?’ Aeris is in a fog of pleasure, the tender press of his hands contradicting his words. ‘Why?’

‘For implying that you are anything less than the woman I knew,’ he tells her. ‘The one who made me see. The one who brought me to my knees.’

The words send shivers down her spine. She sinks into the images he threads through each phrase, the feeling of silk tied around his wrists, pale hands disappearing into the dark of a night robe, the reminiscence of her standing in the sunlight, months and months ago, sunlight striping her skin.

‘I’m not letting you go, Aeris,’ Sephiroth murmurs against the shell of her ear.

She reaches back, slides a hand down his hair, holding his head against her as she closes her eyes. And she lets them please her, lets them coax sighs and moans from her as they bring her closer to climax, mercilessly teasing her until she’s arched between them, tense as a bowstring. Genesis sinks two fingers into her as he repeatedly flattens his tongue against her clit, and it only takes seconds before the orgasm rushes through her, making her clamp her thighs around him and dig her fingers into Sephiroth’s hair. Her thoughts are whirring incoherently between shame at letting loose like this and utter delight, and she’s panting and trembling through it, trying to remind herself that they’ll hold her if she falls apart.

When Genesis rises again from between her thighs, his mouth is slick with her juices and the musky scent envelops them. Sephiroth reaches around her, grasps Genesis’s hair in a fist, pulls him close so that he can lick the slopes of his mouth.

‘Come up here,’ Sephiroth murmurs.

‘Is that an order?’ Genesis says.

‘Don’t test my patience, Commander,’ Sephiroth says, but Aeris can hear the smile in his voice.

•

Genesis is lying on his back, trying to convince himself that he can take this, that nothing is going to interrupt this. That no one is going to get up and leave. Sephiroth’s hair is tickling his neck as he leans closer and looks down at him, not quite daring to touch him yet. Aeris is letting them take their time, straddling Genesis’s thighs, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

As the white cotton falls away from his chest, it uncovers a long gash that cuts through the line of his sternum. Sephiroth’s gaze drops down to it, and Genesis knows that he’s remembering that night just as vividly as he is. The moment of blindness and betrayal, hands grasping, lines of blood stretching between split lips. It’s still just as fresh and raw in their minds as that recently healed skin. But all Sephiroth does is lean over him, closing his eyes and frowning as he presses an open-mouthed kiss on Genesis’s scar. As though sealing it a second time.

It isn’t the vanity fest that Genesis would’ve expected, having the man he loved show him the kind of affection he’s fantasized about for so long. There’s no room for fantasy, now. It’s all so immediate. So real. His heart is in his throat as he tries to believe that Sephiroth isn’t just confused, isn’t just acting on some impulse he’ll regret, like the last time. When Sephiroth runs his mouth up Genesis’s neck and stops at his lips, breathing against him, their eyes meet, spilling a soft Mako glow on each other’s faces. The question is so close to bursting out of him that he’s sure Sephiroth can hear it. _Are you sure about this? Do you really want this?_

But Sephiroth is nowhere near as desperate and reckless as he’d been that night. His fingertips trace Genesis’s scar with deliberate care, and he seems to be waiting for Genesis to make the first move. And the more Genesis allows the reality of the situation to sink in, the more details he catches. Sephiroth isn’t the smug domineering bastard he’d always imagined he’d be in the bedroom. The way his fingertips tremble a little on Genesis’s scar already tell him plenty. And there’s vulnerability in Sephiroth’s hooded eyes, the way they dart between Genesis’s, travelling down to his mouth and back up again. Even his breaths are shallow.

He’s scared. Scared of fucking this up a second time, perhaps. Or scared of exploring this new territory and accepting the risk that they could lose one another in its murky expanse.

Aeris unbuckles his belt and unzips him, sibilance ringing in their ears. And Sephiroth watches his expression as he trails a hand down Genesis’s body, running along the rocky abs and down the smooth lower belly, sinking below his beltline and over the hard outline of his cock. Genesis can’t look at him, can’t take the tentative tenderness in his expression. So he bruises Sephiroth’s mouth with a kiss, pulling him down with long fingers tangled in snowy hair.

Aeris pulls his thick military trousers and briefs down his long legs, and when Sephiroth touches him again it’s skin on skin and Genesis arches, body stretching under them both as his voice catches in his throat. There’s silky hair dragging all over his body, silver lengths caressing his chest, chestnut coils curling over his thighs. Then Aeris leans over to kiss the fingers that Sephiroth has wrapped around Genesis’s cock, her hot breath ghosting over his skin, promising contact. He holds onto Sephiroth’s shoulders as though to dear life when her lips close over the head of his cock, tongue flicking against him, following Sephiroth’s slow rhythm as he strokes him up and down.

‘I wonder,’ Sephiroth murmurs against Genesis’s mouth as Genesis pants and sighs, too overwhelmed for rational thought. ‘In all those years of waiting… did you fantasize about me?’

Genesis manages to grin at that. ‘Absolutely not, no, never,’ he protests. ‘I don’t know why you’d think me capable of such a crude, terrible thing.’

Sephiroth only smiles, before squeezing his cock mercilessly hard, making Genesis bite into the crescent of his smile and groan as the delicious intertwining of pain and pleasure writhes through him.

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ Sephiroth murmurs.

Genesis looks up at him, trying not to let his eyes flutter shut as they both torment him.

‘I don’t know,’ he murmurs, keeping all of his inadequacies to himself, not wanting to spoil the moment. ‘Better late than never, I suppose.’

Sephiroth gazes at him for a moment, and then leans in to kiss Genesis again, only longer and deeper than before.

•

The straps and buckles of Aeris’s lingerie are familiar to both of them. One last defensive, artificial layer before she’s laid bare. Both men turn to her, and Sephiroth watches her reactions, hypersensitive to every little flinch, every sound and movement she makes as they caress her body and close in around her.

Sephiroth wants to be the one to undo the buckles. To undo her. It has always seemed easy for her to be herself around Genesis, to accept his touch, to arch into it. For him, it has only truly happened once. Her, supple and trusting, smiling against his mouth. He wants to make her smile like that again.

He traces the lines of her bra with reverent fingertips, coming around to the clasp, lips against hers as he undoes it with a single movement.  Genesis has moved to the side, one hand between her thighs, pushing two saliva-slick fingers into her as she gasps against Sephiroth’s mouth. He pulls the straps down her arms, the rigidity of her bra cups falling away to reveal rosy softness beneath. Both men lean down to bite and lick at the hardened peaks and Aeris shudders, moaning, holding both of them against her as silver and red coils of hair cover her throat.

‘I hope these windows are soundproof,’ Genesis mutters, and Aeris grins, tightening her fingers in their hair.

‘I didn’t realise I was being noisy,’ she breathes, her words wobbling a little as Genesis thrusts his fingers into her at an aching rhythm.

‘Be as loud as you like,’ Sephiroth says as he draws away, one hand coming to unbuckle his trousers. ‘I don’t want you to hold back.’

He lies on his side next to Aeris, coaxing her leg around his waist so they’re lying face-to-face. She laughs as she shifts for more comfort, pulling him properly between her thighs so that he’s lying on one of them, the curve of his waist moulded over it. His cock slides naturally between the folds of her sex this way, and she smiles as they settle into the position. He can’t get enough of her rosy-cheeked expression. After all she’s been through, for her to smile like this – it’s making his throat grow tight. He leans in to kiss her, because it’s all he can do to tell her, _thank you for being here. With me. With us._

It’s oddly complicated, to want them both, to want there to be equally distributed pleasure. Genesis comes up behind Aeris, leaning on his elbow so that he can see them both, cocooning Aeris between them. Sephiroth’s heart feels heavy as he watches Genesis’s hand roam over her naked body, reaching down to slide his fingers in the cleft between her thighs. She makes a tiny noise, eyes closed, moving her hips in time with his fingers and rubbing herself along Sephiroth’s cock through his open zipper. For a moment they all stay locked in this rhythm, Genesis gazing at Sephiroth from over Aeris’s shoulder, Sephiroth staring at them both and feeling like his heart is about to burst. Then he moves, sinks easily into Aeris, and she gasps as she holds onto him.

Sephiroth gorges himself on the sight of her as he thrusts into her, the way her long hair curls around her breasts and bunches between them, the way she turns her head towards the pillow, eyes closed to better enjoy the sensations. Her face is so relaxed, her mouth open, her brow as smooth as porcelain. Complete abandon. And he sees all that she can be now, free from the constraints that Midgar imposed upon her, free to be as wild as she wants. He’s aching to enjoy that freedom with her so much, even though he’s always been afraid of having too much choice. He tells himself that if she’s with him, if she can guide him, then perhaps he won’t lose himself.

He discarded his materia bracer earlier on, so it’s only when Aeris opens her eyes and glances at him that he realises he’s been channeling his thoughts towards her. He had formed a habit over the weekend, taking advantage of the magically opened pathway between them to share what he was feeling. Now the pathway lies open before him again, without the help of any materia, with nothing but their gazes locked together. Her eyes are shining as she receives the images of her, feral and covered in leaves and freckles of sunlight, stepping through a stone temple, barefoot as a nymph and trailing a translucent white gown. The stones line the shape of the bed, as though they were together in some waking dream, and when he lifts his hands to her face, he’s stroking the crown of flowers that’s blooming around her head, kissing the insubstantial sunlight on her cheeks. And she holds onto his wrists, surely feeling the ghostly weight of the sacraments, smiling against his mouth as he kisses her.

 _Sanctuary,_ the dream says. _You give me sanctuary._

When they bring her to climax, she lets out a scream of delight, far more vocal than she’d ever allowed herself to be. Both men exchange a glance over her shoulder, both of them smiling as she tenses up, hands sinking into Sephiroth’s hair, holding it in bunches as the orgasm rushes through her.

Once she’s coming down again, panting and melting into the mattress, Genesis says, ‘Those guards are probably feeling a little lonely out there,’ and Aeris laughs unselfconsciously as she nuzzles Sephiroth’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around her, growling against her neck as he feels her throbbing deliciously around his cock.

‘I told you. We can make as much noise as we like,’ he breathes. ‘I don’t care if they hear.’

Genesis sits up so that he can see them better, stroking Aeris’s hair as he gazes down at Sephiroth. The two men exchange a long look before Genesis leans over Aeris and bites Sephiroth’s lip.

‘I don’t think they’ve heard you yet,’ he murmurs. ‘Come here.’

•

Sephiroth is already intimate with this body. He’s seen it in all its glory, rising against torn horizons, solid and steadfast. He’s seen it twisting in clear water, hunched over half-stitched wounds, braced and collected behind the sharp steel of a sword. He knows everything there is to know about how Genesis moves, how he flinches under certain forms of pain and rises to meet others, how he curls into himself when he’s crying. There shouldn’t be anything more to discover.

Except there is.

It’s one thing to know what Genesis is like when he’s weathering the storm, when he’s covered by the glittering, many-hued armour of his self-confidence. It’s another thing entirely to have him when he’s naked and visceral, fingers interlaced, eyes shut as he tilts back into the crumbled tatters of his armour. Sephiroth is straddling his thighs, poised, the silver web of his hair glistening over his front and down his back. And with every movement he makes, every line he traces with his fingertips along Genesis’s body, it’s like plucking at the strings of a finely tuned instrument, causing shivers and goosebumps and reflexive twitches. He could go on all night, discovering what to combine, what chords to strike, when to stroke and when to slap.

There are no desperate measures here, nothing pushing him other than the reminder that this can be just as good as with Aeris. Genesis’s cock is slick with Aeris’s saliva, nestled intimately between his bare cheeks. She’s kneeling next to them, running her nails down Sephiroth’s naked back, kissing his shoulder, telling him she’s there with her feather-light gestures. He dithers, sliding slowly up and down Genesis’s erection, leaning his forehead against his best friend’s as they breathe together, wait together for him to be ready. Aeris slides her hand further down, finds the slick entrance, sinks one finger into him. His face breaks into a frown, lips hanging open at the stinging pain of it. Genesis kisses him, reassures him, raking his long hair back as he tells him that it takes time.

He’s just as fascinated as he is frightened by what he’s about to do. When he decides he can no longer wait, he presses down on Genesis’s cock with Aeris’s help, and the sensation of tightness, of Genesis breaching him – he can’t breathe, his whole body feels paralyzed, cold fingers running all the way up from the base of his spine to his skull. It’s too much and he wants to stop but his tolerance for pain has always been high, and perhaps it’s some vestige of his training that makes him take the pain, makes him trust their word that if he relaxes, if he stops trying to fight it, it’ll feel better than he could imagine.

Aeris is sitting on her heels at their right, one hand on his erection, the other stroking his back, gliding abstractly over his shoulder blades. He tries to concentrate on the liquid feeling of her fingers moving up and down on his cock, but whenever she reaches his right shoulder blade, the giddy rush that climbs up his body almost rivals the pleasure she’s coaxing from his cock. He turns his head to her, eyes hooded and dark with arousal, telling her to stay when she reaches that spot on his shoulder blade again. She trails her fingers in an oval pattern, and he arches, breathing in slowly as his cock throbs in her hand.

The contact sends waves of tension through his body, and in the dips between each peak he can feel himself relaxing around Genesis’s cock, accommodating him. He looks down at his best friend, his nemesis, his partner – Genesis’s eyes are trained on his, glowing a pale blue, full of an urgency that has Sephiroth leaning down and losing himself in the hot depths of Genesis’s mouth.

Something is building inside him that feels nothing like usual. He’s too overwhelmed for coordination – every time he moves his hips or hunches his back, it’s like jagged white light carving through his insides, and it’s as good as it is painful. He feels too full, brimming with electricity, feeling it radiating off his skin. And he recognises the path that it takes, gathering at his shoulder blade, dragging across his nervous system towards that tender spot. He sits up, dragging his hair along Genesis’s chest, and he catches Aeris by the wrist so she can stop stimulating that point, because there’s no way he can let that happen here. But it doesn’t stop, it keeps surging and he rocks his hips because he has no choice other than to ride the waves now, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut as his body arches.

There’s a strange crackling, like a cluster of branches breaking up. And then the velvety flutter of feathers fills their ears as Sephiroth’s wing flares out, swiping out into the air, huge and dark and glistening, like the midnight sky has erupted out of his back. And it feels _ecstatic,_ like there had been something missing, like there’s enough of him now for the pleasure to streak through unhindered.

Sephiroth forces himself to hunch over again, panting, his wing curling instinctively. Aeris finds herself right in its curve, like he’s embracing her with it, the longer feathers brushing against her back and giving her goosebumps. They’re silky soft and she’s relaxing against them, looking at them like she wants to touch them, but Sephiroth holds her wrist down firmly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sephiroth breathes. Genesis sits up, cupping his face, panting against him.

‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ he says.

‘That thing has no place here,’ Sephiroth says, shame pulling down at his insides.

Genesis makes a fist in Sephiroth’s hair, holding him there so that he can look at Genesis’s expression. He’s utterly serious when he says, ‘It’s a part of you, Sephiroth.’

Sephiroth shakes his head. ‘It’s monstrous.’

Aeris leans forwards and kisses his shoulder, before saying, ‘I think it’s beautiful. If you really looked at it, you’d see.’

So he turns his head, they both do, and Aeris is sitting there, her pale skin gleaming against the backdrop of inky feathers. Something about her smiling and reaching for the crest, far more curious than afraid, makes him start to see what she means. Perhaps it’s just because she’s there, her simple presence like a light in the darkness, revealing the nightmare for what it really is. She strokes the crest of his wing and his eyes flutter shut as sensations skitter through muscles that are only beginning to feel familiar.

‘She’s right,’ Genesis says. Then he nuzzles Sephiroth’s jaw and adds, ‘There isn’t a single part of you I wouldn’t find beautiful.’

Sephiroth looks between them both, throat tight, and he can’t decide who to reach for first. So he reaches for both.

 

• • •

 

The sun isn’t up yet, but Aeris is awake, sitting on a baroque armchair by one of the high bedroom windows. She’s got a black feather between her fingers. Sometimes she lets it drag across her lips, or trails it along the column of her neck as she looks at the night sky. Her body is entirely boneless, practically fused with the comfortable cushions of the armchair. Every once in a while she lets her eyes drift shut, and then she jerks awake again, forcing herself to stay up.

She wouldn’t miss this for anything. It’s the first time she’ll ever watch the sun rising from somewhere that isn’t Midgar.

There are snapshots of the previous night running through her mind, making her smile from time to time. Whenever she moves her thighs together, she feels a throb, puffy lips reminding her of how Sephiroth had looked when he’d taken her, how they had both teamed up on her, and how she’d turned the tables afterwards. There had been laughter and tears of exhaustion, towards the end. Sometimes she looks over at the four-poster bed, where Sephiroth and Genesis are still sleeping under fox furs strewn with feathers. The furs are patchy from where they’d gripped them too hard. They’re cuddled up on one side, leaving room for her, Sephiroth’s arm outstretched over the space she should be occupying.

The dawn is slowly revealing the horizon, and Aeris wonders how Midgar is faring. If there are still people rejoicing and drinking their way into the new era. According to Gem, there have been people out on the streets all night, cheering and singing and sending up so many fireworks that surely she could see them even from way out in Kalm. But Midgar is just a black smudge on the horizon, dark clouds making it difficult to discern anything at all as they gather over acres of land that will take decades to grow fertile again.

It’s odd. The longing to be back in that city, if only for a few hours. Just to see how it’s going. How everyone is doing. She only realises now that she’s outside its grey walls, how integral it is to her own personal structure. She sees the support pillars like great black spines, the rust-flecked metal of the Plates like skin, hiding the smelly steamy bustle beneath. She’s not quite nostalgic for it, Gaia, definitely not. But she still feels decidedly linked to it, her spine lighting up like the pillars did at night as she stares at that darkness on the horizon, her hair coiling over her pale skin like rust.

She’s free now. That’s the difference. She can go back there if she wants. Eventually. When it will have calmed down. It still feels strange to imagine that she wouldn’t have to _escape_ in order to leave, the next time she goes there. And though she knows at that moment that nothing could persuade her to set foot there again in the near future, she knows that she definitely hasn’t seen the last of that city.

She sighs. Wonders how the Bee girls are doing, if they’re partying too. The horizon has grown pink, and the way it’s growing in patches across the lilac sky reminds her of dress patterns and lipstick shades. She smiles to herself, realising that the memory of it is even sweeter now that she has no obligation towards it. Just like with Midgar itself.

She survived both things. She survived all of it. And she even managed to make it out with a wealth of good memories to cling onto.

When the sun begins to glimmer hotly on the horizon, Aeris has her knees drawn up to her chest, smiling from ear to ear. She watches it as it rises, caught in tree branches and cut up into white slivers.

She hears movement, bodies shifting under linen covers, a sigh breaking the steady, quiet breathing. Glancing over, she sees Sephiroth sitting on the edge of the bed, naked if not for the lengths of messy silver hair falling down his front. He leans his elbows on his knees, yawning into one hand. She feels her chest growing even tighter, waiting for him to catch her eye. When he does, a flicker of concern flashes across his face.

‘Didn’t you sleep at all?’ he asks, his voice as deep as Hades with sleep still clogging his throat.

‘I didn’t want to miss the sun rise,’ she murmurs, gesturing at the window. ‘I’ve never seen it from outside the city before.’

He pushes himself off the bed. She’s not sure his eyes are even open as he walks towards her, both hands coming up to his face to brush his hair away. The pastel colours of the dawn sprinkle over his skin as he comes to stand by the window to look out, and she takes in the curve of his back, the way he’s resting his weight on one hip, one long leg bending slightly to compensate. He moves so nonchalantly, like his body wasn’t manufactured for war. And it wasn’t, she reminds herself, not really. His purpose is exactly what he chooses it to be. Just like hers.

She gets up, brushing down the dress that she’d put back on for the sake of the posh furniture, and goes to lean against him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and for a moment everything feels like it’s clicked into place. Like she’s exactly where she should be. She breathes in his scent, sliding an arm around his waist and they’re quiet for a moment, listening to the beginnings of birdsong. Then he looks down at her, eyes heavy-lidded, and he smiles.

‘I think I showed you some of the sunrises we had over the weekend?’

Aeris nods. ‘They were gorgeous, yeah. But it isn’t the same thing in person.’

Sephiroth hums in agreement. ‘I didn’t spoil the surprise, then?’

She holds him closer. ‘No,’ she says, smile widening. ‘It’s perfect like this.’

•

 

It took about three alarms and a good bout of coaxing to get Genesis out of bed. He had his duty in Midgar to get back to, along with a very frustrated Angeal to deal with, so he was the most reluctant of them all when they stood in the entrance and said their goodbyes. Fingers tightened over dark leather, lips met, and when there came the time to wave from open car doors, they felt fortified by the fact that they had this place to come back to whenever they liked, as well as each other.

Aeris was dropped off at her and Elmyra’s new house by one of the guards’ nondescript black cars. She watched it purr away around the street corner, and then looked for activity through the windows, just to see whether to be quiet. There didn’t seem to be much movement. She stepped up to the front door with her brand new house key in hand. Unlocked the door, tried to open it as quietly as she could.

There was something delicious on the air, wafting into the entrance from the kitchen. It gave Aeris a little jolt to recognise the smell of Elmyra’s breakfasts, coffee and toast and melted butter, realising that a new house didn’t mean new habits. Elmyra had probably been up early enough to watch the sunrise, too.

When she came to the open doorway, she found  Elmyra setting the table, reaching over to the far side as she arranged five sets of plates and teacups. Smiling, Aeris leaned against the doorway and watched her bustling for a moment, before knocking on the wall. Elmyra looked over her shoulder, face lighting up as she saw her daughter.

‘Hey mum,’ Aeris says. ‘I’m home.’

 

• • •


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this took a while. :'D Once again, thank you so much for following me on this interminable journey. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did. I'm so happy that these characters have finally reached closure so that they might stop pestering me. :'D 
> 
> If you're interested in following the original novel I have planned for 2018-19, don't hesitate to give my tumblr a follow! I'll probably be releasing some teaser chapters on AO3 after the Kupocon's over. The link is http://lilly-white.tumblr.com/. 
> 
> Love you all so much! xxx

• • •

**Epilogue**

• • •

 

Aeris spends the first months flying.

She’s only ever known the word _flight_ as junkyard chases, oil-stained car wrecks under her palms, roof tiles and rotten wooden beams breaking underfoot as she climbed mountains and valleys of garbage. As a kid she would look at those landscapes and try to imagine them as a world, a country she could map out, imagining waste streams to be bubbling springs, train graveyards as forests of mighty fallen trees. It would work, as a child, because she had only ever seen natural landscapes in picture books. She didn’t really believe yet that they existed beyond her imagination.  

Now all of those landscapes are around her, and it’s as if all her desperate childhood stories spilled out of her head when she was little, forming the world outside of Midgar while she wished so hard for forests to exist. She’s flying, her hands clean, her heart in her throat as she clings to her safety harness and loses herself in the wide open air.

Who’d have thought that the clouds above Midgar hid so much sky? She dreams in blue for days. At first it’s Genesis who ferries her around the world, taking her with him on his missions or diplomatic visits, and they video-call Sephiroth from the fortified, lantern-lit bedrooms of Fort Condor, from the ridiculously abundant buffets in Costa del Sol, from the sweltering pit stops down in Mideel or the crackling, incense-filled spaces of Cosmo Canyon. But there’s never enough time, because he’s duty-bound, and she has so many questions she needs to ask, so many places she needs to stop at to put her hands in the earth and tell the Planet she’s here, at last, she’s here.

After the first few months, she’s been on the road for long enough with Genesis to know basic survival skills. Genesis and Sephiroth give her materia, a good quality staff and a military-trained black chocobo, and she does some traveling of her own. She hugs Elmyra on the doorstep and travels back to Cosmo Canyon, staff strapped on her back, saddle bags heavy with provisions.

It’s terrifying at first, to sleep alone under the stars and take the necessary precautions against monsters, but the thrill of it makes her feel more alive than ever. Once she gets to the Cosmo Canyon, she’s got monster pelts hanging off her chocobo’s saddle, collections of bones, plants, eggshells and animal parts that have phytotherapeutic value, according to Genesis’s books.  She trades the lot for access to their libraries and archives and spends a month with the elders there. There’s a man called Bugenhagen who knows more things about the Cetra than anyone she’s ever met, things that make her think he might be hiding something about who he really is. He’s the only one who really believes her when she explains her lineage. He takes her under his wing and gives her access to his life-long research.

When she comes back, her chocobo is pulling a cart of books and scrolls and star maps behind them. Sephiroth accepts to transform one of his manor’s bedrooms into a study, seeing as she doesn’t want to bother Elmyra with everything, and eventually the bookshelves begin to eclipse the bed. They stay up late together, reading, comparing theories, video-calling Genesis to let him in on their debates, especially when they want to prove each other wrong. There are contradicting notes everywhere, especially involving the notion of _how_ the Cetra healed the planet. Sephiroth thinks the records of animal and human sacrifice make sense, if the goal was to replenish any area of the Planet that had suffered forest fires or epidemics, bolstering the Lifestream beneath. But Aeris holds off from the idea of her people being so bloodthirsty. She prefers to believe the notes pointing to the use of prayer and conversations with the dead, to coax Lifestream to any given spot. 

She has scrolls covered in glyphs, so they test their Cetran vocabulary. By then Sephiroth is growing less and less dependent on emotional outbursts to speak fluently. They have both agreed to teach Genesis, as he has the same genetic capacity for telepathy thanks to his Jenova cells. But for the first few months at least, Sephiroth and Aeris treasure their secret language.

She leaves off going to the Northern Continent before Sephiroth can come with her. The conditions of his house arrest are tied up with the state of Midgar, and she’s been following the changes and upheavals as closely as she can while she travels. All around Midgar, a white forest of wind turbines has begun to sprout up; they’ve begun work to optimize the city’s public transports, tearing through disused industrial lots to make room for more residential areas. The slums are a difficult issue, people going on strike all over the place to protest and promote different ways to go about it. Some Upworlders feel it’s unjust for slum dwellers to be prioritized in their search for housing and jobs. The city is still a mess, but it’s a constructive mess. It’s a mess of open debates, open conversations, and that’s infinitely better than the pantomime it used to be.

The ShinRa HQ is in the process of being converted into an open museum. The plan is for people to be able to access the surveillance footage that ShinRa might’ve had on them, as well as all the forbidden confidential files that the company kept close to its heart. The higher levels are still in use, filled by experts appointed there by the council, to monitor the running of the Mako reactors.  But this also means that knowledge about Jenova’s origins has become accessible, and people are shocked to discover that they had known about it all along, that their New Year’s Calamity legend had been real all this time. It breeds fear, and people are beginning to ask for proof, and whether the threat of Jenova really died along with ShinRa.

By then, Genesis has managed to find Hollander. He and Angeal sit on the other side of an interrogation room from him, and it’s so bizarre to be on the other side of the power dynamic this time around. The man who groomed them all throughout their childhood sits there, limbs curled around his bulging belly like an overturned beetle, and they barely threaten him for five minutes before he blabs the truth. They obtain Jenova’s location. It takes a long conversation spanning several days before both men decide what to do with him. Hollander ends up joining Delaine, the ShinRa board members who survived, and the rest of the corporate criminals on the death row in the Midgar Correctional. And Genesis spends the night in Sephiroth’s living room, drinking and smoking his way through cyclical conversations about guilt, not knowing how to feel.

It’s been six months since the elections. The council decides to approach Sephiroth with the issue of Jenova. Now that they have its location, him and Genesis are asked to go and destroy it. They bring the issue up with Aeris, and while she’s happy that it will mean Sephiroth’s house arrest will finally be lifted, she’s afraid for them. Her research revealed a lot about Jenova’s manipulative capabilities, and she voices her concerns about them going in there alone. She brings up how harmful her own magic is to Jenova, and how it would make sense for her to come with them, even as they voice their protests.

She comes with them.

 

• • •

 

In the deep red bowels of the Nibelheim reactor, the last child of the Planet steps across gridded floors with her staff strapped to her back. Sephiroth is leading the way, Genesis bringing up the rear. The metallic churn of chains and the steady thrum of Mako fill the silence as they come to the sealed door. Sephiroth hacks through it, and he’s the first to see the winged silver bust, the ornament hiding the monstrous form beneath. He rips it away and looks inside, his face lit by the blue tank in which Jenova is being preserved. Genesis and Aeris call to him from the doorway, but he just stands there. Entranced. Genesis holds back whilst Aeris runs to him, taking his arm, begging him to snap out of it. He turns to her, frowning, his eyes wide. _Can’t you see her?_ he asks. Aeris looks at the tank and sees a woman with long dark hair caught in a golden ribbon, all dressed in white. Frowning, she asks him, _who do you think she is?_ And Sephiroth tells her, _it’s my mother. My mother is in that tank._

Sephiroth tries to tell her that she’s sleeping, he needs to wake her up, he needs to break her out. Aeris cups his face, leans her forehead against his. Pushes the images of what Jenova really is through the delusion. _It’s manipulating you. Making you see what it wants you to see._ But he becomes defensive as soon as Aeris implies that she isn’t going to show the thing in the tank any mercy. He pushes her away from the tank once. Then he’s walking towards her, shoulders squared, eyes full of a strange fire as he pushes her a second time. This time he sends her sprawling.

Genesis is by her side in seconds, Rapier drawn. He shouts at him, _have you gone mad?_ But Aeris can feel that familiar dread clawing at her insides. It’s Jenova, forcing its will into Sephiroth’s head, like all those times he was unconscious. As the two men stare at one another, Genesis winces, frowning. He tells Aeris to hurry, to use her magic before what’s gotten under Sephiroth’s skin does the same to him. And he slashes at Sephiroth to engage the melee, trying to bring him further away from the tank.

Aeris goes to the tank as the ring of swords clash in her ears. She can’t breathe. Hands out, she summons her Healing Winds, staring straight at the beautiful floating body in the tank. And something happens – something screeches through her mind, the body in front of her beginning to shrivel. But the further Aeris focuses the spell, the more the body bursts out again, bones and guts lancing out, mutations bubbling and collapsing. It’s fighting her. It seems to have dropped control over the men as it tries to preserve itself, and Aeris is too focused on pouring her whole being into her magic that she doesn’t notice when a familiar voice resounds in her head.

_Aeris. My baby. You’ve grown so much._

Aeris doesn’t know when she closed her eyes. She opens them again and it’s her mother, it’s Ifalna in that tank, long hair floating around her, specimen sheath falling loosely over her body like a gown. Aeris falters as she looks at that face. She hasn’t seen her in so long. Ifalna is smiling at her with those two familiar dimples in her cheeks and Aeris shakes her head, eyes shining as she renews her spell and growls, _don’t you dare_.

The answer comes to her like breathing – this is why the Cetra froze Jenova, why Jenova looked only halfway human in the pictures and drawings. Because if they couldn’t kill it, then they had to find a way to show everyone what it really was. Perhaps Sephiroth’s presence had triggered the transformation somehow, active cells drawing the dormant body to consciousness. She laces a Stop spell through the shimmering waves of Cetran magic, and Aeris doesn’t realize that she’s yelling as she pours everything she has into the spell. And Jenova is frozen again, mid-mutation, body parts spilling against the sides of the tank so that it only remotely resembles a human. But it’s kept Ifalna’s jaw, Ifalna’s lips, and Aeris is panting, shivers coursing through her body as she looks at that decaying, amorphous flesh wearing her mother’s smile.

The men are waiting for her outside, at a safe distance, and they catch her when she collapses in the stairway. They decide together on what to do. Aeris is drained of energy, unsure as to whether her magic is potent enough for her to destroy it by herself. They decide to place the Nibel reactor under heavy guard until they find a solution for displacing or destroying the body safely.

 

• • •

 

The first anniversary of Midgar’s new Green era comes and goes. After helping to secure the Nibel reactor, Sephiroth decides Aeris needs a break from her research regarding Jenova’s weaknesses and different records of how the Cetra handled her. He accompanies her up to the North, dragging Genesis along even as he protests against the cold. They reserve a room in the five-star Icicle Inn that gave the town its name, and spend a weekend trekking through snowy mountains under the Mako-green aurora borealis. One night they’re huddled in bed, slightly drunk on spiced wine and liquor-filled chocolates, and Sephiroth asks them to come and live with him. The council offered to give him the manor after lifting the house arrest, and it’s far too empty for one person. Aeris smiles at him, lips sticky with cherry-liquor as she kisses him, and Genesis shakes his head and says, _how could you expect me to survive in that decorating scheme?_ He’s barely raised the issue that both of them are already debating how they’d rehaul the entire place, and Sephiroth is smiling quietly as he watches them.

 It’s a tough one to explain to Elmyra. Aeris sits in her living room, trying to go through the chronology of lies. Elmyra frowns and asks, _so you’ve never really been with Zack?_ And Aeris blushes. _No. That was just so I could have an excuse for work._ She fudges over the way she met both Firsts, and when Elmyra realises that Aeris is talking about _two_ men, not just one, she’s a bit flabbergasted. _So they’re both – ? Together as well?_ Aeris nods. _All three of us._ Elmyra only shakes her head, says something about _kids this days._ But she can tell by the way Aeris talks about them, that she cares deeply for both of them.

 _I’ll only be about ten minutes away by car,_ Aeris reminds her, but Elmyra isn’t quite ready for her daughter to go. She supervises the moving process, not caring that her presence is overbearing and that she’s piling a load of stuff that Aeris will never use into the boxes. When Elmyra stops the van outside of the manor, she gapes. It’s about as imposing as the two towering men who greet Aeris at the gates. They’re both huge, the redhead a head taller than Aeris whilst Sephiroth looms over the both of them. They shake Elmyra’s hand one after the other, rumbling greetings, and Elmyra blinks – she can’t imagine how her daughter could hold her own against one man of this stature, but _two?_ She’s fascinated by their interactions, how they move around her, how easily they bend to her will whenever she asks them to move something, how they make her laugh and cast lingering gazes at her when she isn’t looking. When comes the time to leave them to their new home, Elmyra clasps Aeris’s hands and says, _I hope you know what you’re doing._ Aeris just laughs. _I don’t think I ever do know,_ she says _. But that’s fine. I feel good about this._

Genesis is strangely subdued after meeting Elmyra. He’s barely moved in that he’s already putting his shoes on, mentioning something about going back to Midgar a bit earlier than expected. They sit him down, and with a little coaxing he admits what that therapist told him back in the labs all those months ago. The name he hasn’t had the time to look up yet. Beatrice Crow. He’s not expecting to find anyone, but he’s been aching to at least put the doubt to rest, especially if he’s going to be living in the same city as her. Or at least, the one she was last reported to have lived in.

It’s as simple as fetching the Kalm phonebook. Genesis arms himself with a bottle of wine, letting Sephiroth and Aeris look through the names as he drinks and braces himself for disappointment. And then – the pages stop rustling. Sephiroth’s deep voice utters the words Genesis is dreading. _Found her_. 

The phone call is brief. Sephiroth and Aeris watch him pace in the living room, phone in hand, eyes down on the floor. Aeris is holding onto Sephiroth’s hand. Neither of them will ever have this chance. Finding long-lost mothers. Sephiroth told her that he’d discovered who his parents were, that he’d found the documents attesting to his own mother dying in childbirth. Both of them are borrowing Genesis’s fear, his lurching hope, just to give themselves a taste of that unachievable dream.

He stops. Looks up at the far windows. His mouth drops open, as though he’s trying to reply to whoever has answered the phone. _Yes, hello,_ he says. _I, uh. I have a delivery for a Beatrice Crow, and I’m not sure I was given the right address – the buzzer I’m using doesn’t seem to work._ Sephiroth gestures at him, as though to say, _what are you doing?_ But Genesis isn’t looking their way. _Yes,_ Genesis says. _That’s right, the eight o’clock delivery. I’m a little early, yes. I’m buzzing number twelve. You’re not at that number?_ The conversation goes on, the person on the other end giving him directions. When he thanks her in a perfect customer service voice and hangs up, Aeris explodes, saying, _what the hell did you do that for?_ Genesis is shaking too much to answer, staring down at the phone before looking up at her. _What would you have done?_ he says.

He needs to be persuaded to go, once he’s constructed the situation. Aeris and Sephiroth tell him that if it isn’t her, then he’ll just lay it to rest as he said, and if it is her, well. They’ll be here for him whatever happens. So he goes, raking his hair over his head as he ducks into one of the three cars in the driveway.

The address she gave him is near Kalm’s notorious street full of bars. He walks across the paving stones, heart banging in his ears. The general ambiance of drunken laughter and children wailing only irritates him more. He digs his hands in his pockets.

The house number corresponds to a narrow little three-storey building, squashed in between a bar and another building of the same type. There are three names on the buzzer outside, indicating each floor. _Crow_ is the third. He coughs. Stares at the buzzer for about two whole minutes. Then the crusty front door swings open, a woman strolling out with a baby at her hip. Genesis catches the door, smiles at her as she passes. Blonde. Not the right hair colour. He goes in, makes his way up the rickety staircase, heart pounding in his ears.

The top floor is cluttered with bikes and empty shopping bags and overflowing flower pots. The door is bright red, freshly painted. Genesis swallows three times. Then he knocks. There are stomping footsteps inside, a voice yelling, _why am I always getting it, mum! This is your shit!_ Genesis’s blood runs cold. He had never imagined that. The door opens to reveal an androgynous twenty-something, leaning against the door and looking up at Genesis with sharp blue eyes. They’ve got long red hair tied up in a ponytail, wide-rim glasses taking up most of their face. One bra strap peaks out from the gaping collar of the jumper they’re wearing, and Genesis just frowns down at them as they say, s _orry man. Mum’s on another planet most of the time. You the guy?_

Genesis manages to close his mouth and nods. _I’ll need your mother to sign for the delivery,_ he adds. But the youth only smirks. _Since when does anyone need to sign for weed?_ they say, and Genesis wants to slap himself for getting so easily played at his own game. Then the youth glances Genesis up and down and says, _hey, aren’t you famous or something_? and Genesis steps to the side, raking a hand through his hair. _I get told that I look like one of the Firsts,_ he says vaguely. _That’s weird, so do I,_ the youth says with a smile.

There’s noise in the corridor. Genesis has never felt so out of place as he makes himself stand there. A figure is bustling down the corridor, asking at the teenager to get back inside, and the youth looks up at Genesis curiously before backing off.

He’s come all this way. He makes himself look at the woman who takes the youth’s place at the door. She’s got dark red curls scraped up in a messy bun, and the same lean physique and strong jawline as her teenager. A cigarette hangs between her lips, paint smudges covering her hands and the rolled-up sleeves of her patchy red jumper. Her skin is tanned, her face weathered by sunlight and tobacco. She looks like she’s in her forties. But he can still guess at the young woman she must’ve been when she arrived at the Midgar Hospital that day, thirty-one years ago. High cheekbones, plump lips, eyes far too gentle for someone who was about to sell her child to ShinRa.

He’s angry all over again. No, it’s not her fault, he tells himself. She was young. Too young. She didn’t know what she was signing up for. He expects her to ask about the weed, and he’s racking his brains for some excuse, something to say in anticipation. But the woman only stands there, clear blue eyes staring straight into Genesis’s. Recognition lights her features in seconds. Slowly she takes her cigarette from her lips. He can’t tell if she’s glad or afraid or an odd mixture of both. Then she smiles a soft, wondering smile, and says, _I knew you’d come looking for me. As soon as ShinRa fell. I was waiting for you._

It was nothing like any of the fairytale reunions that he’d dreamed of as a kid. He warns Aeris that she’ll probably be disappointed, after she pounces on him in the manor entrance, demanding details. Aeris assures him that it’s impossible. So he tells both of them how it had gone. The awkward explanations of Hollander’s contract. The reintroductions with Sam, his half-brother. The coffee in a cramped living room, the admittance that she’d always known he was hers from the first time she saw him on the TV, the paintings all over the walls. _She’s an artist_ , Genesis says, and by that point he’s smiling. _All of her paintings are drenched in red._

 

• • •

 

Something about watching Genesis become reunited with his family makes Sephiroth feel hollow, empty. He offers to bring Aeris to Gast’s grave at the winter solstice. They already honoured him in the North, but this is the place that Sephiroth has always associated with him, where he’s always paid his respects.

It would be the first time Aeris goes back to Midgar in a year and a half. But it’s the best reason she could possibly have. Having Sephiroth by her side makes it easier to see the graffiti-covered slum wall, the glistening skyscrapers. The wind turbines have her staring, realising for the first time that the city really is changing.

They’re silent as they pass through the cemetery gates. Sephiroth takes her by the hand and leads her to Gast’s grave. It’s small, nothing quite like Aeris would’ve thought he deserved. She traces the carved calligraphy of his name, unable to speak. Sephiroth gives her incense sticks, and they both light them, holding them out together, placing them one by one in the holder. Then, as they watch the long lines of smoke spear straight up before breaking into curls, Sephiroth puts an arm around Aeris’s waist and holds her close.

Aeris looks down at a little decorative plaque saying _‘_ Beloved colleague’. It looks very old, overgrown by moss and dirt. It makes her think back on the happier days of the Science Department that Sephiroth had told her about. She murmurs into the silence, _you mentioned once that he gave classes about Cetran culture_. _Do you remember where that was?_ Sephiroth tilts his head back as he thinks. _I’m not sure there are any courses exploring Cetran culture any more,_ he says. _He was one of the only researchers who even offered to teach a university-level module about it. But it must’ve been at the public university._

An idea forms in her mind as she stares at smooth marble. _We’ve been sitting on all our research,_ she says. _And I’ve been keeping everything to myself for so long. It feels natural for all of this to be just my secret, my burden. But… do you think it would really be that terrible to come out publically, like my mother did? To teach everyone about who the Cetra really are?_

Sephiroth gazes down at her. _It wouldn’t be terrible at all,_ he says. _It would be vital for people to stop being ignorant about our shared history. If it was on your own terms, of course._ And Aeris frowns down at Gast’s tombstone, trying to imagine herself in his shoes. Trying to do him proud by following his footsteps.

 _And maybe if I come out,_ she says with a small smile, _I’ll find out that I’m not the last one after all._

 

• • •

 

It’s just an experiment at first. Sephiroth gives her the keys to his old flat, so that she can make her demands at different schools. After her first day of job hunting, the interest she receives is overwhelming. She gets invited all over the place, some departments even begging her to organise her own course. But it only takes her twenty-four hours to remember why she’s been putting off coming back here. She doesn’t want to be in this city that holds so many bad memories. But she’s the only one who can do this. And she _wants_ to do this. And maybe, several years from now, it won’t be too tedious to spend her working hours in this place, when it will have changed beyond recognition.

She decides to meet up with Gem and surprise her with news of her first Upworld job contract as a Cetran history teacher. They’re to meet up at the Blue Dragon just before opening time. Aeris comes in early, smiling as she sees Snow talking to a group of girls. She’s still just as elegant as ever, heavy diamonds on each ear, her hair up in complicated braid patterns. When she sees Aeris, she stops speaking, looks at her for a moment. Then she nods. Aeris accepts that this is probably as close as she’ll ever get to a warm greeting from that woman, so she nods back. Then Gem charges out of a door, unmistakable with her Mohawk arching over her head, saying something about audition times clashing that night as she strides towards Snow. Aeris watches curiously as Gem steps a little too close to Snow for friendship, placing a hand on the small of her back as she asks something. And Snow – she’s actually looking down at her with something like _appreciation_ in her face. She says something that makes Gem smirk, and then Gem leans up, wearing a cheeky smile as she bites Snow’s lower lip. 

Aeris turns right around. She had no idea Gem even swung that way. She waits awkwardly, pretending not to have seen anything until she hears the shout she was expecting – _Chime! You’re finally back!_ And she barely has the time to turn around again before Gem crushes her with a hug.

They reunite around drinks. Aeris insists on hearing everything that Gem’s been up to, so Gem obliges. She managed to wriggle her way out of Angeal’s team of unofficial peacekeepers once the city had somewhat stabilized, and enough Hounds had officially gone through training to be properly promoted. At the time there were opportunities that Gem couldn’t let up. Delaine got caught up in the sweep of billionaires, and his brothel network was basically up for grabs for a while. There had been a bit of an underground war regarding who would take over his network, and a lot of older sex workers had fought for the network to be broken apart, including her and Snow. They’d ended up wrestling a piece of the network for themselves, while the rest managed to either gain their own independence or succumb to other smaller crimelords, who were still passing under the radar while the bigger fish were caught.

When her Guard learned that she was at the head of several businesses, they had a long talk. She managed to reach an agreement with him regarding her own freedom. He allowed her to live on the plate and agreed to stop monitoring how much she was making, as a reward for all the good she’d done for them. So she’s in charge of how much she gives her gang now, financially speaking. In a way she turned from victim to sponsor. And it suits her fine, because there’s work to do regarding the social evolution her family is going through, and she’s glad to help now that she’s got more than a modicum of control. 

 _I’m a manager now,_ Gem says proudly. _I’ve got about four brothels in my care, including one of Midgar’s best BDSM dungeons._ Aeris is grinning as she listens, chin resting on both hands. _So if you want to come back and work in Midgar, I know exactly which places to recommend,_ Gem finishes with a wink. _Actually, I am coming back to work in Midgar,_ Aeris says. Gem shrieks in indignation, telling her they should be celebrating instead of listening to her own blabber. _I’m not going to go back to brothel work though,_ Aeris clarifies. _I’m going to be a teacher. History._ Gem seems fascinated, asking her to elaborate. Once Aeris has taken her through the program she’s prepared, Gem proposes a toast. _To sex workers educating the goddamn world,_ she says, and Aeris laughs before downing her drink.

 

• • •

 

Aeris is petrified of teaching her first class. Sephiroth hasn’t made an official appearance in society yet, his house arrest having been lifted very quietly, so he can’t accompany her. But Genesis offers, immediately calling Angeal to ask if his schedule can be rearranged, which makes Angeal groan. The first lecture hall she steps into is massive and overcrowded, but people move out of her way upon seeing who is accompanying her. Aeris is beginning to reconsider letting Genesis attend, even in his casualwear, seeing how the students are all tittering and staring at him. It’ll be the first time they go really public about their relationship. Aeris goes to the pulpit, stares up at the crowds of chattering students. When she feels like she’s about to faint, she looks back at Genesis who is sitting in the front row. He lifts his chin at her, his gaze encouraging. _Just pretend you’re talking to me,_ he told her.

Once the class has settled down, Aeris speaks into the silence. _Welcome to the first Cetran history module in twenty-five years_. There is a reverent murmur, and to Aeris’s dismay Genesis actually starts clapping – and then the whole amphitheatre takes on, and she’s smiling, shaking her head as a blush creeps over her cheeks.

She weaves what she’s learned about settler and Cetra physiology into her lessons, mentioning that the loss of magical ability stems from the sedentarization of the Cetra, forsaking the Planet and suffering physiological changes throughout the millennia as they blended with humans. _If you are a natural materia wielder, or if you have magical abilities that don’t require materia, then it’s almost certain that you have Cetran ancestry. And you are close enough to your ancestors to be able to access your genetic potential. But it’s possible to strengthen your ability._ This is her way of trying to build a community – with each class she sends out a call for anyone who might be close enough to the Cetra, perhaps as close as her, to be able to shoulder the burden together.

She gets all sorts of students coming to her after class, explaining their abilities with magic. Her classes soon gain a reputation, and she starts receiving phone calls from people who aren’t even students, natural wielders all over Midgar who want to meet her and talk magic.

She ends up organizing night classes. A lot of the people she meets know a lot more about the different types of magical potency than she does. There are quiet moments in her night classes where everyone is spaced out, hands open, concentrating on showing the progress and intensities of their natural spells, and Aeris stands back with her arms crossed over her chest, smiling to herself. She has never been surrounded by so many kindred magic-practitioners who want to learn from her and talk with her about magical skills way into the night. In these moments, walking among them and judging their skill, she finds that she is finally, quietly content.

 

• • •

 

The first Mako reactor that comes down is the one ShinRa erected in Wutai. It hasn’t been used since ShinRa came down, but the Imperial couple knew that it would be a hugely symbolic moment, and that they would have to wait for the right moment to do it.

The right moment is handed to them two years after the fall of ShinRa. Midgar calls, and mentions that Sephiroth wants his first public appearance to be at that reactor. Inaugurating its destruction. They agree to the ceremony, and it is the first occasion for the East and West to have a sincere handshake in decades.

Wutain troops line the long walkway that leads to the Imperial palace. The Imperial couple stand at the top of a short gilded staircase, flanked by guards. Sephiroth walks along the petal-strewn walkway, with Angeal and Genesis walking a few paces behind him on either side. Everyone in Midgar is watching, Aeris sitting by Gem’s side with her hands over her mouth, as Sephiroth reaches the bottom of the staircase. A guard stands there in layers and layers of ceremonial armour. There is a silence as the three Firsts stop. Aeris can almost hear the collective gasp around the world as all three of them kneel. Sephiroth holds something up with both hands, which the guard takes. The camera zooms in on what the guard is holding as he turns around and climbs the staircase, bringing the trinket to the Emperor. It’s a small red orb of materia. The emperor takes it, lifts one hand up in the air as he casts the spell. Sephiroth touches his forehead to the ground as the emperor summons Masamune, an otherworldly ring of metal resounding in the silence.

 

• • •

 

Things are a little strained between him and Genesis after that. Aeris learns that Genesis is the one to have suggested giving up Masamune as the most potent symbol of peace they could offer. Sephiroth was in no way ready to part with it, but with the combined pressure of the council and both Firsts, he grudgingly accepted. Aeris decides to cheer him up by inviting him to one of her lectures, as he has the freedom to move around far more publicly now.

He’s dubious about the idea of showing up in a university. There’s still a lot of controversy about his actions at the ShinRa HQ, and even with the formal apologies, compensations and proof of mental instability at the time, people are still very divided as to whether they trust him. Some even protest that he should’ve bowed in apology to the families of those he murdered at the HQ before going to Wutai. But since Aeris looks so hopeful at the prospect of him finally coming to see what she’s doing with all their research, he decides to accept, hiding his hair and trying to go as low-profile as he can.

Once he’s sat at the very back of the amphitheatre, he watches her walk up to her pulpit. She smiles and nods at the students who greet her before going to their seats. She’s wearing her long hair loose, bangs clipped back, and he finds himself absorbed in her lecture about recent archeological finds in the southern islands. She clicks through slides, taking questions and addressing her students by their first names. He doesn’t understand why he feels so nostalgic until her realises how much she reminds him of Ifalna.

After class he smiles at her expectant expression, tells her how much he enjoyed it. She’s eager for him to meet her best pupils in her night class. He decides to come after she mentions that some of them have natural magical abilities she’s never seen before. Gem has even been sending some of her girls over, as she’s seen them casting defensive or curative abilities in her brothels.

The lesson is in one of the university’s sprawling gymnasiums. Once everyone has arrived, they talk about their progress together. Sephiroth sits up in the darkness of the seats as he watches Aeris interact with them. They space out, casting magic and taking her advice. There are twins who can only manage to cast their natural ability when they cast it together, and as they summon a natural Wall over themselves, he’s struck by an idea.

After the students have gone, Aeris climbs up to where he’s sitting in the darkness. He pulls her into his lap, unable to resist her after seeing her in a position of power. The doors aren’t locked, and they’re both panting and grasping at one another, lips open, hearts pounding at the possibility of interruption. But no one comes knocking, so they finish, Sephiroth clamping a hand around Aeris’s mouth when she gets too loud. Sephiroth tells her that leadership suits her well, and she smiles against his lips, her cheeks rosy red. He’s helping her to button up her shirt when he asks, _do you think some of your students have the same curative abilities as you?_ Aeris tells him that their spells are less potent, but that with a little work, they could get to the same level as her. One girl from Gem’s brothels even has the capacity for curative rain, like her, though she can still only use it for a limited amount of time and covering a limited terrain. _I never knew there’d be so many of them,_ she tells him. _They’re like_ _the family I never knew I had in this place_. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he contemplates her smile. _I have an idea,_ he says.

 

• • •

 

They’re all holding hands, standing in a wide circle around the Mount Nibel Mako reactor. There are hundreds of them. Most of them are women; students and teachers, young and old. The men stand among them, channeling the group’s energy just as strongly. As though in protest, the reactor continues to churn, spewing hot green fumes and glowing with white neon lights.

It’s been five years since the elections. Aeris knows all of the faces around the circle. She’s trained them, talked with them, laughed with them. They all know what this means to her. She’s smiling as she concentrates on combining her energy with theirs, weaving all of their intentions together. Her mother’s materia glints in the artificial light as she lifts her chin.   

The Healing Winds whip up into a steadily growing whirlwind around the reactor. At first they brush along the façade, dislodging loose sheets of metal, ripping through ventilation grids. Before long they push through the doors, raking across rusted metal and filling every empty space inside. Aeris expects to hear the same shrieking as the day she’d confronted Jenova alone. But the Healing Winds are so loud, it’s difficult to tell whether that shrieking comes from them or the monster within.

It’s an exorcism. She feels the thing inside, feels its pain, its panic. They all feel its indignity, its claws tearing at their spell as it refuses to die. Aeris is open-eyed, breathless, smiling from ear to ear as she feels their combined spells _surging_ in a way she’s never felt before. The twin black feathers hanging around her neck pull and twist and flap in the wind, threatening to snap off their chain. And then, the reactor’s neon lights burst in showers of sparks, its engines whining as the power dies. They’re broken through. She can no longer feel that core of hatred, the blackened heart of the reactor. The magic slows from a relentless whirlwind to a warm, pillowing breeze. Aeris’s hands are sweaty, and when she hears the others whooping and yelling with glee, she can’t help laughing. There is a long ectoplasmic trail rising from the reactor, blood red, like some kind of negative Lifestream. And Aeris smiles, eyes following its journey upwards as it scatters into the night sky.

 

• • •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you want more of this fic, make sure to check out the "border-of-taboo" tag on my tumblr where you'll find aesthetics, the writing process, headcanons, and more. ♥️ )


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